


I Fall Into You

by leehwi



Category: Pentagon (Korean Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Break Up, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Gen, I'll update tags as I go, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, general sadness, lots of music talk but Idk what I'm talking about, please don't hate me.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10173392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leehwi/pseuds/leehwi
Summary: Hyojong's pain is still present in his heart when he sees Hui with someone else, he's not good for him, but he wants him back.Inspired by Happier by Ed Sheeran





	1. Although my heart is falling too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> You all are always so nice and supportive and I'm repaying in horribly sad HuiDawn...don't shoot me just yet.

Sometimes memories come in tiny fractions of a person’s being, a sigh, a freckle, it comes and goes like a snowflake in summer. Sunlight illuminating a cheekbone glances through our mind and it disappears before we can grab it, the memory gone - maybe forever. Our mental pathways aren’t designed to hold everything, they catch and drop fragments of happenings from years ago and before we know it, we’ve forgotten something important. You can never promise to remember anything.

But he promised to remember the feeling, not the images that caused such reactions, he had promised himself that he would remember all of the feelings. The love, the anger, the sorrow, the  _ happiness _ .

The pain wasn’t easy to forget, as it was constant, it wasn’t just going to drift away and fall between floorboards where it would be swept over, or hidden by a rug. It was there. Still. Again. Maybe always. He couldn’t tell.

It was on the 9th of September that the pain made a recurrence in Hyojong’s memory, it was an eye of the storm type of day, the warmth before the cold. The sunlight had been auburn colored and made the salt in the grains of the sidewalk glisten, the wind was sharp, a contrast to the hot sunlight and his eyes watered, shimmering drops clinging to his lashes.

He blinked, in an attempt to clear his vision, it might be important to see where you’re going before taking off walking in the city. The cars zipping past honked as they ran through puddles, water erupting in their wake, painting the once dry road dark. Hyojong cast his eyes at the sky, wondering where the rain had gone, drainpipes pattered noisily as he walked past, reminding him of the absence of rain. He was partial to the rain.

Gaze wandering, Hyojong shoved his hands further into his pockets, focusing his path towards his studio. If he squinted, he could see the entrance the music studio, the sign that read Melody Pad in red chipping paint was hard to miss. The pillars that framed the archway for his building was familiar and welcoming, his feet carrying him a little faster with the urge to get to work.

The street wasn’t as busy as it was earlier and he was grateful for peace on the rest of his trek to work, the block and a half that was left of it anyways. He crossed the side street carefully and let out a huff of air as he passed the bakery at the start of his block. Long ago, he had memorized each shop in the immediate radius of his studio. The bakery was the first on the block, next the apartment door, then the insurance agents office, a small mobile accessories shop, another apartment entrance and then finally his beloved Melody Pad.

He was almost at the insurance agents office, a car pulled down the street and parked on the other side of the street, drawing Hyojong’s attention. He normally would’ve ignored it, but a sound hit his ears, a laugh.  _ Oh _ , that laugh.

Like beads scattering across hardwood floors, memories burst to life behind Hyojong’s eyes, a gasp brushing past his lips. A warm morning, cups of coffee being exchanged, kisses being exchanged, a connection of fingers, that laugh. A blistering cold afternoon, the clock ticking, hands gripping blankets, feet rubbing together, that laugh. Middle of the night, gasps bruising lips, lips bruising skin, hair tickling down a chest, that laugh.

And then the pain returned, Hyojong’s heart beating to a pattern, skipping a piece of the pattern and crumbling to the bottom of his stomach. His feet had stopped moving before he’d realized it, his eyes glued to the pair that left the parked vehicle that had first drawn his notice. One was a tall dark haired man, he had thick eyebrows and a pursed smile. The other was exactly what Hyojong had expected, dark jeans that clung to thin legs, a sweater that covered down to his thighs, ash blonde hair that was side swept and a breathtaking smile.

His chest aflame and aching, Hyojong watched them join together at the front of the car, fingers tracing lines in palms, hips bumping against the others, an exchange of words that pulled another laugh from his chest. That laugh, it would seem so innocent to anyone aside from Hyojong, the sound of that laugh used to be the reason he got up in the morning, he used to breathe the sound of that laugh and he used to beg for it to be traced into his skin. It was his laugh. He owned it, in a way.

Now it was someone else’s laugh and he wasn’t prepared for the crushing pain that that knowledge brought.

 

* * *

The Melody Pad was open to the public on most days, but the beauty of owning your own business, was that you could change that. Hyojong flipped the sign to read ‘Private sessions only’ and retreated from the street, farther into his studio. He tossed his keys onto the marble counter of the main lobby, he circled around to the desk behind the counter, there sat a silver laptop was plugged into the wall. He tapped the mouse to turn it on.

Glum seconds passed by as he waited for the bright screen to show a welcoming and then the sign in page. As soon as he’d finished logging in and finding his security management program, he tapped the ‘lock doors’ button and waited to hear the familiar click of the front door, before he moved down the hallway. The wooden ceilings provided a homely feeling, but the walls were grey and a stark contrast to the black floors, giving a modern look.

Hyojong had never been good with interior design, but a friend of a friend was an artist and assisted with the design of the building, it was professional, yet comfortable. Perfect for the music scene. He swiftly unlocked his office and stepped in, the scent of his air freshener was the first thing he was aware of, the next was the hum of his computer hard drive. It was strangely a comforting sound, in reality it was the most familiar thing to him in the world, his keyboard, his computer, his speakers. It was his space.

He pulled his chair out and sat down in it, the feeling of his body hitting the cushioned seat made him aware of the dull pain that still strummed in his chest. He sighed. God, he looked happy. For the second time that day, Hyojong felt tears running down his cheek, although this time was not due to stinging wind.

A pen found it’s way into his hand and he stared at his notebook, his eyes drifting up and down the page, he tapped the center of the pen against the side of the desk. Unconsciously, his hand scribbled at the corner of the paper, his scrawl looked hideous compared to how gorgeous the name was to him.  _ Lee Hwitaek _ .

Even the name seemed to hold far more beauty than it had any right to, a name is simply a header at the top of the page of who a person is, but the name promised a page full of hedonistic nights in the back seat of an old sedan and flyaway blonde hairs littering black sweaters. It promised Hwitaek and that was enough for Hyojong.

The pain was swirling in the front of his mind, but he pushed on and focused on his work. There were few things that assisted in washing Hwitaek from his mind, and his music was the central control unit of his life, so it was easier to maneuver his thoughts to surround the notes and lyrics of his songs. Sometimes composing felt less like a job and more like a guilty pleasure, he was sure it wasn’t fair to enjoy your job this much, but this time it was hard for him to really find the joy in composing. He was thinking too hard.

The slam of a door alerted him to someone entering the building, he sighed and checked the time, Hyunggu was early. He left his private office and went in search of his friend, who was no doubt in his own recording room. He pushed the door open, peering his head in to hear the sound of Hyunggu’s honey soft vocals warming up.

Hyunggu had been a friend of Hyojong’s for several years now and when Hyojong opened the Melody Pad, he had tried to sign up for a membership, but on the agreement that Hyunggu cleans up at the end of day, he would be allowed full access to the recording rooms and composing studios that the Pad offered. Over time, Hyunggu even earned a key and now works the front desk when Hyojong’s busy.

“Hyunggu,” Hyojong called out, stopping the vocalizing short and earning a grin.

“Hey Hyojong, what’s up?” Hyunggu hung the headphones in his hands on the mic stand in front of him. “You look a little winded, did you run here?”

Hyojong recalled the incident from earlier, although it could hardly be called an incident, it was more just him standing on the side of the street, clutching his heart as it throbbed in his chest. He absentmindedly rubbed that same spot as he looked at Hyunggu, remembering how much it’d hurt earlier. “No, just...”

The younger’s eyebrows lifted and he tilted his head slightly, trying to get a better look at Hyojong’s face, as if he could see the paths down his cheeks that had been running with tears just ten minutes before.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Hyojong shook his head. “Do you want some coffee? I was gonna head to the kitchen.”

“I’m okay, I gotta preserve these vocals, y’know?” he smirked, but he didn’t seem quite convinced that Hyojong was fine and he was still watching him with hawk-like awareness. Hyunggu always seemed to have an intensity in his eyes, whether it was childish wonder and glee or a reserved concern for another’s well being, Hyunggu was always alert.

It was almost reassuring, knowing that someone had his back no matter how much of an asshole he was being, but it was also concerning, Hyojong’s brought people down before and he’d hate to see it happen again, especially with Hyunggu.

He left Hyunggu to his vocal warmup and he directed towards the kitchen, which was primarily grey coloured and had a sleek cool feeling upon stepping in. The coffee machine was on the steel counter in the corner, tucked away as if it was waiting to pounce on the first to enter. Hyojong plugged the cord of the machine into the wall outlet - “We have to save power!” Hyunggu had insisted the last time Hyojong accidentally left it plugged in.

It didn’t take long for him to have a steaming cup of hot coffee, which he sipped on as he returned to his room, this was his daily routine. He spent the entire day in the Pad, moving back and forth from his office, the kitchen and the bathroom, not stopping his work until he had at least one song halfway done. The ‘daily grind’ as it were was not quite the same for him as it was for others, everyone else had breaks and got paid for every minute they were working, but spent a minimum of 700 minutes working each day and only got paid if the work was good.

The days when he would sit in his office for three hours, before Hwitaek brought him a cup of coffee and a kiss were long gone, he somehow found it easier to get his work done when he had a ray of light that would encourage him, tell him he was doing well and that he was proud of him. It was not uncommon for Hwitaek to sit with him and sing some of his ballads to him, to watch and admire or even just keep him company in silence. Either way, his presence meant the world to him.

_ You seem happier now _ . His mind whispered into the vast silence, which echoed back to him, there was no longer another voice to respond. There was no longer that laugh, which would drift into his thoughts whenever he was sad or lonely, it was all gone. The shattering reality that Hwitaek was truly gone and not his anymore was enough to kill Hyojong...some days he wished it would.

The words typed across the screen in front of him were almost blindingly painful to look at, he'd written these lyrics as he wrote the lyrics for every one of his songs. He had closed his eyes and let his heart spill the words across the screen, until he had a sufficient amount to go off of. He just hadn't expected this one to hurt so much.

_ Missing you fills my chest till it burns, _

_ You're not there, no matter where I turn, _

_ You're a fire that I can't touch, but still feel the heat. _

_ You living okay? I'm just trying to make ends meet, _

_ But everyone knows that love cannot be bought. _

_ I breathe in my longing for you and exhale my last good thought, _

_ Missing you hurts my head and I can't see, _

_ You're better off now, that much is clear to me, _

_ My fingers curl, there's a ringing in my ear and it's an echo of you. _

_ A burst of what once was is present in my mind and covers my view, _

_ It's like a flare of light that blinds me and I cry in the darkness I’ve created _

_ Missing you hurts _

Hyojong blinks and then lowers his head to his hands, this rap was going to be a lot harder to finish than he thought. His chest cramped and groaned miserably as he lifted his hands to his keyboard again, the words seemed to fall out of him and he grimaced. As he paused to consider the next verse, the door to his office creaked open, he sighed a little bit and looked back over his shoulder.

Hyunggu stood with pursed lips. “Hey, um,” he cleared his throat. “I was gonna head out. Do you need anything?”

Hyojong shook his head, giving the boy an appreciative smile. Hyunggu was good at worrying about people and neglecting his own health, sometimes Hyojong had to force him to take a step back. He approached Hyojong and took a peek over his shoulder at his lyrics and nodded approvingly.

“And you said you weren't sad,” he smirked a bit, it wasn't mean, it was simply a matter of fact that Hyunggu decided to point out.

He patted Hyojong on the back and disappeared from the office. The composer watched the kid go, feeling a lump starting in his throat. He needed a break. He saved his programs, closed them and went in search of a snack. His stomach rolled and growled, perhaps he should've gone for a snack earlier. The kitchen was well stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables and the occasional leftover takeout, mostly kimbap, but it would be enough.

The clock above the stove blinked glumly, Hyojong sniffed, it was almost 8pm. He really wanted just go to bed, but he really needed to get work done. He often had these inner battles, struggling between what he wanted and what he needed, what was good for him and what made sense to him.

His rational thinking said that work was the most important, but his muscles screamed and creaked as he moved, telling him that it was time to give up. He gave up fighting and leaned against the counter, he would wait till quarter past 8 and if his phone before then, then he would stop working, if it didn’t, he wouldn’t. He was sure that Hyunggu would text him to nag him about going home, as he usually took it upon himself to do.

Hyojong normally lived his life based on chance, his mother was very superstitious and apart of it had rubbed off on him in a way, he couldn’t help being like this. He would occasionally decide his lunch based on how many red cars he saw in the street on his walk to work.

As his mind swirled around his mother’s traits that had passed to him, he heard his phone buzz and he sighed, almost with relief. He read the screen, seeing it was a text from Shinwon;  _ Hyunggu’s worried, please finish up early tonight _ .

He laughed silently, no doubt Hyunggu had told on him to his boyfriend, the little rascal had trouble keeping his mouth shut sometimes. He tapped back a promise to follow their request and he grabbed an apple from his fruit stand. It wasn’t much, but it would do, he just needed something to tide him through the night.

Shutting off the lights and locking the doors, he took the flight of stairs at the back of his office up to his private living space, it was a small penthouse that was comfortable enough for one person - it was all he needed. He had never demanded much in life and he had more than he ever could’ve asked for, yet he still wasn’t happy. There was a lonely hole in his life.

He grabbed the bottle of wine that he had stashed at the back of his refrigerator and he sat with his legs folded on the leather couch. The TV was almost always off and right now, useless, not having been used in months, it was more for decoration than anything at this point. He wondered if he should just get rid of it.

Hyojong was privy to few crude luxuries of being single, one of the ones that he had trouble letting go of was drinking from the bottle, he lived alone, he was single, no one could complain. He raised the bottle to his lips and tipped it back, feeling the cool liquid slide into his mouth and down his throat. He blinked heavily, remembering the last time he’d drunk this wine. It was shortly after the night that they’d broken up, he could still see it clear as day in the back of his mind.

 

* * *

“Hyojong? You home? I hope it’s okay, I let myself in,” Hwitaek’s voice was mesmerizingly soft and the way he entered the living room, slipping his shoes off, made a smile break out on Hyojong’s lips. How simple Hwitaek’s beauty was, he was tender and moved with purpose, he was cautious when it was required, but his manner was the kind that calmed you down.

“Hey babe,” Hyojong got up off of the couch and moved to kiss his boyfriend.

His heart sank to the bottom of his chest, when Hwitaek flinched slightly and pulled a little away from the hand that had been reaching for his elbow. He looked so small, all of a sudden. Hyojong felt too big, he felt enormous and it made his head pound.

_ What’s wrong? What did I do wrong? _ His head was screaming his thoughts, but he was too careful to voice them, he cleared his throat quietly.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently. He didn’t want to raise his voice, knowing that he’d scare Hwitaek away.

“Yeah, um...I’m fine,” his words were distant and mumbled, his eyes looking anywhere but where Hyojong stood in front of him.

_ I did something wrong. _

Hyojong watched his boyfriend carefully, watched the way he moved away from his touch and circled towards the kitchen, muttering something about coming to get something he left. His vision started to cloud together, he breathed deeply.  _ Don’t overreact, wait for him to explain _ . He could feel his heart racing and his fingers fidgeted against the fabric of his shorts.

“Uhm, I’m just gonna check the bedroom, I think it’s in there.”

He was stalling, or something like that, Hyojong wasn’t sure why and he knew he couldn’t assume, but it was plain as day - he was stalling for time. His heart was slamming in his chest now and his breathing quickened, he couldn’t do this right now, he couldn’t handle this. He was going to have another attack, he was sure of it.

The moments before Hwitaek returned were what Hyojong thought would be the most painful 40 seconds of his life, his eyes were unfocused and his pulse was faster than normal, his hands were shaking and he felt his knees weaken. He wasn’t ready for this. What did he do wrong? Where did he fuck up?

“Hyojong,” Hwitaek’s voice pierced through Hyojong’s atmosphere, it cut past the shrouds of white noise and blurs. Like usual, Hwitaek was the only thing to pull Hyojong out of his attack, the panic subsiding for just a second, so he could hear the sound of his voice again.

But this was all wrong, his voice was all wrong. It wasn’t light and shimmery sounding, like it was supposed to be, it was all shaky and forced. This was all so very very wrong. Hyojong’s temple was buzzing and the ringing in his ears told him to be wary of his words, he could end up saying things he didn’t mean.

“I- uhm, I didn’t mean to...” Hwitaek paused, swallowing roughly. His tongue swiped over his lip. “Well, that’s not true, I didn’t- I shouldn’t have, but-”

_ “Just say it!” _

Hwitaek’s reaction to the way Hyojong had hissed sharply at him was heartbreaking. He fucking cowered, his elbows jerking into his chest and his eyes closing for a second longer than was usual. He was scared.

“I-I heard some things around at the label and they mentioned some...Japanese kid...I didn’t believe them at first, but I wanted to ask you myself and,” he paused to take a shuddery breath. His eyes were growing wet and he sighed out in a whimper. “God, Hyojong, just please tell me it isn’t true.”

That was it. That was all he needed. Hyojong shut down, in the moment he hadn’t realized what had happened, but looking back on it now...he hated himself. He remembered it, not how most memories are in our minds, but the way you remembered someone else’s actions. It was if he was watching himself from the other side of the room, from behind his own back, the whispering in his mind the only rational thought that had gone through his mind at the time.

“So what if it’s true? Yuto’s gone, it doesn’t matter!”

“Hyojong,” Hwitaek’s voice was a mere whine, a scared whisper.

“No, listen Hwitaek, Yuto didn’t have what it took to be a good composer, he couldn’t handle the pressure, it’s not my fault!” Hyojong’s voice had raised in volume, the room echoing with it. His own bitter words coming back to hit him in the face.

“Not your fault? A man is dead and it’s ‘not your fault’? You’re the one who-” an involuntary gasp cut him off, followed by a hand covering his mouth. He wouldn’t...he couldn’t finish that sentence.

Hyojong had never meant for it to happen, he had never wanted this. He felt like a kid, hiding his hands and peering through his fingers, watching the horrific events before him. “Who...what?” his voice was dangerously low.

“Killed him,” Hwitaek whimpered.

One beat of silence followed and tension crackled in the air between them. It broke.

A sharp strike across Hwitaek’s cheek was enough for his tears to spring loose, falling quickly down his cheeks. He opened, then closed his mouth, as if holding back words.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Hyojong shook with rage, his hand was quivering at his side and his face burned a deep red, the anger was radiating around his head like a helmet of pure fury.  
  
No more words were exchanged as Hwitaek shoved past the other, running for his shoes. Hyojong stood in the middle of his living room, his mind drawing completely blank and his thoughts getting lost with the anger that still subsided in him. By the time his natural subconscious had shoved the guilty second face aside, it was too late. Hwitaek was long gone.


	2. Familiar Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I kinda left off at a weird note last time lol  
> Well, here's the second chapter, we meet a lot of people here O.O

_ “Dawn-kun!” _

_ He sighed, slowly turning to see the puppylike boy running towards him. There was something strangely adorable about him and he couldn’t help but smirk. Adachi was tall and tan, he was stunning visually, despite how lacking his skills might be right now. _

_ “I told you, Yuto, call me hyung,” Hyojong corrected, softening his voice so it wasn’t harsh. But the young Japanese boy took everything as a scolding and he nodded, a pout forming. “It’s okay,” Hyojong added. _

_ “I was just wondering if you had time to look over my lyrics, I’m almost finished with it,” Adachi proudly withdrew a sheet of paper, crude Hangul characters were scribbled across the page. _

_ A fond feeling settled in Hyojong’s chest, the kid’s messy handwriting was almost endearing, it showed his character, the determination he was putting into his work. Hyojong took the paper from him and scanned his eyes over the lyrics. He grimaced slightly. _

_ “It’s tacky,” he sighed. He knew that Adachi was sensitive, but he also knew how strong he was and that he took every criticism as a lesson and built himself up with it. He hoped that this would help him at least somewhat. _

_ Adachi simply nodded, “I thought so,” he bowed and took the paper back. “Thank you, sunbae.” _

_ He felt bad now. Hyojong reached out and gave his bicep a squeeze, “You’re improving, Yuto. You’re doing good,” he assured, his words falling sour on his tongue. He hated lying to the kid. _

_ A hopeful grin crept across Adachi’s face. “Thank you. You’re a good teacher.” _

_ “Hyojong?” _

* * *

 

“Hyojong!” Hyunggu was shaking his shoulder, rousing him from his sleep. He blearily peered up at him, groggily sniffing.

“What?” he croaked.

Hyunggu sighed, sounding like a stressed mother. “Come on, hyung, it’s 1pm. And...he’s here,” he dropped to a whisper.

It was hard, but Hyojong pulled himself upright, sniffing and rubbing his sleeve across his nose. He peered at the younger. Who was here? He hadn’t been expecting Hyunggu to come over, much less someone else. He mumbled sleepily and pushed the covers off, his bare chest and legs meeting the cool air and making him groan discontentedly.

“I don’t wanna...” he complained, sounding not unlike a kid getting ready for the first day of school. But this earned him a light rap on the head.

“Hyung! Get up!” Hyunggu insisted, before disappearing down the stairs that were off the side of his room. Hyojong’s bedroom was on a levitated platform above the living room, providing him some privacy, but easy access to the kitchen. Midnight snacks were a must.

Slowly standing up, Hyojong moved over to the railing, looking down at the bare minimum amount of furniture in his living room. There was a lanky boy standing down there, his hands were in front of him and fidgeting with his sleeves, he was staring at the wall across from him. Hyojong thought maybe he looked a bit familiar, but his dark hair covered his eyes and his full lips and wide nose were the only distinct features on his face from what he could see.

A bit reluctantly, Hyojong went in search of a bathrobe and put his feet in the slippers next to his bed. He really didn’t often agree to seeing people this soon after waking, but he padded down the stairs, his head starting to throb, reminding him of the amount of alcohol he’d drunk the night before.

Hyunggu was standing next to the boy, giving Hyojong a little nod and a smile, as if he was preparing to coach him through this. He waved his hand towards the kitchen, silently suggesting something, that Hyojong was not following.

For the time being, he ignored the stranger, who was watching him closely and he went for the kitchen, setting his coffee maker to make a cup, before leaning in the doorway, watching the two kids that were whispering in his living room. The big one seemed to want to leave, Hyojong caught the words “doesn’t want me” and he sighed. 

“Name?” he asked, his voice cutting through the whispered quiet.

The tall kid seemed to jump to attention, his large eyes peering through his hair to stare at Hyojong. He blinked, his hand moving up to brush some hair out of his face, he swallowed and swiped his tongue across a dry lip. “J-Jung Wooseok,” he mumbled.

“What are you here for?”

Hyunggu interjected. “He’s a rapper and he said he wanted to learn from the be-”

“Did I ask you?” Hyojong’s eyes pierced Hyunggu and he shut up. “You’re awfully quiet for a rapper. Rapper’s need to be fluid with their words, you seem to have a numb tongue, what good is that?” he drifted back into the kitchen to retrieve his coffee. Cup in hand, he moved carefully across his living room to take a seat in the only armchair, a big leather seat in front of the window.

Wooseok shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, somehow finding a mixture of confidence and arrogance, enough to talk. “I’m a rapper,” he sounded sure of himself, that was good but it wouldn’t last around Hyojong.

He observed the kid closely, he was standing in a reserved way, his hands folded in front of him and his head tucked in, but his face showed a mute confidence that was normal in people his age. His hands were big and he kept rubbing his right thumb against the back of his left hand.

“Why are you here?” he asked, taking a drink of his coffee, savoring the hot burn that erupted in his throat. He didn’t have the patience to deal with a hangover and two teenagers right now.

“I was hoping you would...train me,” he muttered, he shifted his hands again and Hyunggu sighed, as if that wasn’t what Hyunggu had coached him into saying. 

Hyojong stopped and slowly set his coffee cup down, he leaned back in his seat and stared up at the massive - well, child - his eyes examining him. Hyojong weighed his options, he could attempt to train Wooseok, risking a repeat Yuto or he could send them away no and risk Hyunggu’s anger.

“I don’t train people anymore,” he said, his gaze was intense and he could feel Wooseok’s discomfort.

Hyunggu’s hopefulness dropped and he nudged Wooseok. “He brought his demo,” he told Hyojong, who looked back with a blank look. Wooseok dug in his pocket and withdrew a thumbdrive - who even used those anymore? He held it out and Hyojong stared at him, holding his gaze. The kid knew how to put his chin up, that was something.

“Leave it there,” he pointed vaguely at the coffee table and then turned his head to gaze out the window, his state of undress reminded him that he probably didn’t look very imposing.

Wooseok murmured a thanks and left his demo on the table, before Hyunggu ushered him out. He gave Hyojong a grin as they were leaving, but Hyojong deflected with an empty stare.

How could Hyunggu do that to him? He knew about Yuto, he knew that Hyojong had trouble with trainees, why would he bring someone to him? It was years ago, but it still hurt, it was still hard. He had spent a year avoiding the label, he didn’t compose, he didn’t write, he didn’t even touch a microphone. It was hard work coming back and he wouldn’t have been able to do it without Hwitaek.

But now he was gone too.

He heard his phone buzz and he climbed the stairs to his room, where his phone was sitting on his nightstand, the screen on. He read the message there, it was Hyunggu.  _ Thanks xx  _ it read. Hyojong wrote a simple response.  _ Fuck off. _

* * *

The Melody Pad was quiet for the most part, the afternoon was slow most of the time, but Hyojong felt a sense of normality, seeing his regular come in. Jo Jinho was a popular soloist, who preferred private vocal practice, hence he came to the Pad. He seemed to have a timid personality at first, but the more Hyojong saw him, the more he learned about him. He was tiny, physically speaking, but he had a strong presence, he was commanding when he wanted to be and he was used to having to do things himself.

His stage name was Jino, but when he signed up for a Pad membership, he had insisted on being called Jinho, in his words “My training space has to be comfortable, I’m not an idol here, I’m a singer”. Hyojong respected that, he had always admired Jinho’s level of professionalism, but he also liked being familiar with him, it made it easier to see him almost every day.

“Good evening,” Jinho greeted, his voice friendly but not inviting, he wasn’t looking for a conversation.

Hyojong helped him sign in and he waved vaguely at the hall that led to the sound booths. “They’re all open,” he turned back to his laptop, staring at the blank screen in front of him. He looked up at the sound of the door opening again, oh dear.

Hongseok wasn’t a regular, but he came to train once every few weeks. He was a good singer, but he had been tossed around labels a few times and was struggling to find a group, the label sent him here to “clear his head and train somewhere a little more private”. Hyojong didn’t mind him, he was just a little...friendly, in a loud way.

“Hey!” he chirped, marching up to the counter and propping his elbows on it, he grinned down at Hyojong, who returned a blank stare. Hongsoeok had bronze skin and perfect hair, his grin was so bright Hyojong had to squint. He was definitely what someone would consider attractive, but his looks were nowhere close to deserving the look Jinho was giving him, not in Hyojong’s opinion.

Jinho had been halfway to the sound booth, but when he glanced at the newcomer, he’d stopped in his tracks. His mouth hung open and he was staring at Hongseok with stars in his eyes, he looked mesmerized, in a trance almost. Hyojong almost rolled his eyes then and there, but when Hongseok looked over at him, the small man snapped his mouth shut and looked indignant before marching off to his sound room.

“He’s cute,” Hongseok smirked, looking back at Hyojong. “Who is he?”

The idea of Hongseok not knowing who Jino was, was hilarious to Hyojong, but he kept quiet and replied, “Just some solo artist, probably doesn’t get along well with others,” this wasn’t wrong, Jinho had had some trouble connecting, that’s why they didn’t let him in a group.

“Small guy...” Hongseok murmured, deep in thought for all of .2 seconds before his attention span wandered. “Hey, here’s my card, you probably want this.”

Hyojong swiped the pass through the machine and it beeped, he watched the screen until it loaded, docking off one session from his allowed sessions. Hyojong’s system seemed complicated from the outside, but it was simple. You paid for a number of sessions and if you didn’t use all of them within the month, then you got a free session for the next month, but Hongseok only paid for two or three a month, so his cared rarely passed over into the next month.

He watched the trainee drift off down the hall and he sighed. Those two would be an interesting pair, Jinho’s stubborn cool air clashing with Hongseok’s nosy bright personality, they would probably kill each other. Hyojong made a mental note to make sure they ran into each other more often, it wasn’t entertaining enough at the Pad anyways.

As he made his daily routine of cleaning the mics and sweeping the empty sound booths, among other chores, Hyojong’s mind started to drift. He couldn’t get the image of Hwitaek walking next to the tall man - no doubt a model, and he felt something ugly rear it’s head inside of him. It was a cold bitter feeling that made his stomach churn, he felt his hands and jaw clench, he hadn’t even meant for them to. He tried to shake the feeling, but it only quieted, not completely leaving him alone just yet.

He heard the front door open and he popped out of the sound booth he was in to look down the hall, his stomach twisted and he felt anger hit his chest. It was the man, the tall beautiful, thick eyebrowed man who had just been on his mind, was standing right there in his studio.

Hyojong swore mentally and told himself that he had to calm down, he was probably just someone looking for somewhere to sing, he didn’t know who Hyojong was. It took everything in him to force himself down the hall to face the man, who was looking absentmindedly around the Pad, taking in the furnishings.

“Can I help you?” Hyojong’s voice sounded far more bitter than he had meant.

“Hello,” the man bowed, his voice had a strange accent. “Are your recording rooms rentable?”   
Definitely a strange accent, maybe Thai or Chinese, Hyojong wasn’t sure yet.

Unable to stop himself, Hyojong huffed, sounding far haughtier than he had any right to at the moment. “Not exactly. We have a program, here,” he grabbed his plastic covered brochure from the desk and handed it to the man.

“Oh, thank you,” the man took it and squinted at the page. He was muttering each word aloud as he read it and Hyojong decided to sit down, this would probably take a while.

He waited patiently until the man lowered the brochure, “You run a pretty tight ship here, huh?” he tried to joke. Upon Hyojong’s blank stare, he changed the subject. “I’d like to start a membership if that’s okay.”

Hyojong sighed inwardly, but nodded solemnly on the outside. “I’ll get you set up.”

“Is there any way to set up a dual membership? Like, if my friend wanted to practice with me?”

Mentally rolling his eyes, Hyojong explained quickly. “Who you give your card to is your business, as long as the card matches our system, pretty much anyone can use a booth.”

“Ah, I understand,” the man reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet, approaching the desk, where Hyojong was opening a new client folder.

“Name?”

“Yan An.”

“Label?”

“Oh...is that required?”

“No, I just don’t usually get independents in here. I cost a bit more than a sole person can afford, generally the label gives good benefits when it comes to extended studio use,” Hyojong was being slightly petty and using whatever ‘official’ sounding terms that came to mind.

But much to his dismay, Yan An kept up with every word. “I see. I’m not with a label right now, but I’m sure the price won’t be a hindrance.”

Hyojong finished typing up his paperwork, he normally learned a little bit about his client first, but he got enough information from filling in the form. His name was Yan An, he was 20 years old and he was from Shanghai. And he had a black card.

As soon as his card was set up, Hyojong went to the sessions calendar and looked up at Yan An through his black fringe. “How many sessions do you want for the next month?”

“Eight.”

His eyebrows shot upwards, his eyes wide. “You want...eight sessions? For the next month?”

“Yes,” Yan An seemed to sniff a bit, as if he wasn’t used to people questioning what he wanted. “Is that going to be a problem?” he leaned against the counter and Hyojong swallowed.

“Not for me, it’s just an unusual number...” he drifted into a mumble and entered in the number 8 in the monthly sessions window. He wasn’t opposed to the money that that would bring in, taxes for a studio this size are enough to make Hyojong sweat at night, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see this guy twice a week.

After everything was set up, Yan An disappeared into a sound room, locking the door behind him. Hyojong questioned to himself whether or not this kid was actually a good singer, but the security cameras didn’t have sound and he wasn’t going to go spying, that wasn’t tolerated at the Pad.

He settled on waiting in his office until his guests were done, he had to finish the instrumental for this song anyways. However now he was sat staring at the screen, a page of sound clips were displayed in front of him and he wasn’t pleased with any of them. He selected a more electro sounding instrumental piece that he had crafted several months back, he put it to the lyrics of his rap, framing it together in his mind. It wasn’t bad, but it was still missing something.

Ideally, it needed vocals, but there was more to it than that. He looked around and spotted his guitar across the room, he went to grab it and placed it in his lap, his fingers toying over the strings briefly. He sighed and then began strumming out some simple chords, no that wasn’t right. He needed some plucking, not strumming. 

The strings between his pinched thumb and forefinger, he plucked out a tune, feeling some confidence with the sound, he carried it out till he had something worthwhile. He put the mic near the soundhole and repeated the tune, he watched the sound waves jump and fall on the screen as it recorded the sounds. He saved the recording and then placed it behind the instrumental that he’d been working on. He slowed the electro instrumental by .5 seconds and he softened the tones, it flowed gently to the sounds of the acoustic and he felt satisfied.

He would record the rap later, after he talked to Hyunggu to see if he could get him to do some vocals for him, but right now he needed to stretch his legs. An hour and a half had passed since he came in here and he felt a bit of muddle headedness, sometimes time ran right past him and he lost track of it too easily.

The Pad was quiet, the sound booths still said ‘in use’ so he could assume that no one had left yet, which meant he had some extra time before he needed to finish his cleaning routine. He went to the kitchen, looking for an apple or something. He always got a little peckish while composing.

A light tinkling of a bell alerted him and he realized that yet another person had entered the studio today, it was never this busy, what the hell? He sighed and gave up on his search for an apple, maybe it was Hyunggu or Shinwon and he could entice them into doing some vocal work for him. He abandoned the kitchen and the idea of food and entered the Pad front room.

“Hello, welcome to the Melody Pad,” he said in a monotonous tone, if it was Hyunggu, then he would most likely laugh at this. Occasionally, Hyojong would tease him by putting on his ‘bored retail employee’ voice and they would giggle at this.

“Hi,” the voice was soft and Hyojong was halfway to the desk, when he looked up at the newcomer.

It was like a blinding light was hitting him right in the face, the figure before him had his hands crossed in front of him and he was stunned, having just looked up to see Hyojong himself. His cheeks were tinged with a light blush and he was dressed in a button up that exposed his collarbones, where the blush spread to his chest. His jeans hugged his body, which Hyojong hated himself for noticing and his blonde hair was sideswept up off of his forehead. His mouth hung open and he a mixture of emotions were playing across his features.

“Hyojong,” he murmured, biting down on his lip, sounding timid.  
  
“Hwitaek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be up by Monday or Tuesday :)


	3. Jealous?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have been enjoying this!  
> There's a lot more plot than I originally intended tbh so I hope you're enjoying it all the same :)
> 
> some BTOB here, bc Hyojong needs friends...

_ “Yuto-ah, don’t do it like that, you’re going to stress the cord,” Hyojong chided, untangling the mic cord that Yuto had wrapped around his chair incidentally. _

_ The Japanese boy gave him a sheepish look and he scooted his back to ease the tension on the cord, he murmured an apology which Hyojong brushed off. He was so quiet and always tried his hardest, it was nearly impossible for Hyojong to ever get mad at him, he would feel too bad about it later. _

_ “Just pick your chair up for a second,” Hyojong instructed and pulled the cord free when Yuto did as he was told. “There, just make sure you look where you’re moving your chair before you do it, okay?” _

_ “Okay,” Yuto’s face lit up with a smile and he looked for all the world like a small delighted child. _

_ “Now, let’s focus on these lyrics,” Hyojong directed back to the issue at hand. Yuto had spent nearly an hour writing his lyrics, only for Hyojong to have him scrap them twice, it’s not that Hyojong was trying to be malicious. But he knew as well as anyone that the label demanded only the highest quality, they wouldn’t settle for anything less. _

_ Yuto had aimlessly written down a few paragraphs and given Hyojong a half hopeful look. It was going to take a lot more than this. “Put some heart into it, Yuto-kun. What are you even writing these for, if you don’t feel them?” _

_ The boy nodded, but his face read as if something was wrong. _

_ “What is it?” Hyojong sighed. _

_ “I just...It’s kind of embarrassing,” he mumbled. _

_ “Writing about feelings?” Hyojong understood how he felt, he used to be a very reserved person, he didn’t like to talk about how he felt, let alone the deepest parts of him, but he had worked to the point where he found comfort in writing lyrics, it was easy to just let go on the page. _

_ Yuto nodded and Hyojong turned to look at the screen. The weak hearted lyrics displaying a mediocre amount of emotion towards a woman that most likely did not reciprocate the feelings, not even in the tiny amount that they were being portrayed. _

_ “Have you ever been in love, Yuto?” _

_ When he turned to look at the Japanese kid, he wasn’t expecting such a wide eyed look, he seemed to be slipping into a daze and he nodded. His expression had turned so soft and Hyojong couldn’t help but wonder what kind of girl earned this reaction from a boy who seemed so so in love... _

* * *

 

“What are you doing here?” was all Hyojong could think to say.

Hwitaek blinked at him, his face growing redder by the second. He swallowed and licked his lips, that beautiful tongue that Hyojong found himself missing more than anything right now. “I-I came to meet a friend...”

Of course. Yan An wanted to share his membership with a friend, Hwitaek was a singer, Hwitaek and Yan An were dating. It was all coming together in Hyojong’s mind and each piece clicked in place with a blinding jealousy that made him sway unsteadily where he was standing. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid as to let them walk right into his life and fuck him over.

“Yan An,” he murmured thoughtfully, unable to take his eyes off of Hwitaek. The way his shirt was tucked into his jeans, the slope of his hips that melded into wonderfully thick thighs, the angular hands that clenched and unclenched by his side, the curve of his jaw that Hyojong recalled kissing so many times. He was intoxicating, even if he was standing 15 feet away.

“Do you...” Hwitaek hesitated. He looked so unsure, so lost. “Do you work here?”

Hyojong couldn’t stop the hopelessly bitter laugh that left him, he didn’t know why it made him feel like this, knowing for sure that Hwitaek hadn’t looked him up since they split, he hadn’t once wondered about him, he didn’t know anything about what he was doing now and he probably didn’t care.

“Kinda,” he opened his mouth to explain more, but before he could get the words out, one of the sound rooms down the hall opened and the sound of someone approaching made them both turn to look.

Jinho observed them both with his eyebrows raised, he looked like he just walked into a wild west type showdown. He sighed softly, blowing some hair out of his eyes and he put a hand on his hip. “I didn’t know you came here, Hwitaek,” he sounded mildly annoyed and Hyojong looked between them.

Hwitaek had somehow stiffened his entire body, he was staring back at Jinho with a cold grace and he tilted his head as he replied. “I didn’t realize your label made you get a private room,” he tried to sound bitterly amused, but it was simply portrayed as defensive.

Looking at the two of them, some old silent rivalry apparent, Hyojong felt his heart sink. He wanted a chance to rekindle something with Hwitaek, but now the mood was ruined, there was no chance of getting to talk to him now. He’d probably collect his rich Chinese boyfriend and leave. Boyfriend...what an ugly word to put with Hwitaek, Hyojong thought. The idea of Hwitaek having feelings for another made the cold weight in his stomach reappear and he stared at Hwitaek.

He looked so beautiful and innocent, just standing there. The wonders of his personality were written in his features, but the intensity of the love that he was capable of placing in others was masked by a gentle face. His ferocity was unnoticeable until called upon, and Hyojong had called upon it so many times during their long nights spent carving whispered declarations of love into each other’s skin.

His chest lurched as Hwitaek allowed a smile to fall on his lips and he moved to sit on a chair that was tucked by the window. “I’ll just wait for Yan An,” he mused.

The idea of him just sitting there and waiting made Hyojong groan inwardly, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stand him just...being there.

As Jinho left, Hyojong noticed the look that Hwitaek gave him, it was a confusing mixture of anger and something else, maybe jealousy? Hyojong almost laughed, what did Jinho have that Hwitaek didn’t? When Hyojong looked up to see Hwitaek staring at him with the same expression he gave Jinho, he sniffed a bit and looked down at his desk, where he pretended to be busy.

The silence between them was painful, but short lived as Hwitaek suddenly stood up and crossed the lobby to stand right in front of Hyojong’s desk. Hyojong swallowed thickly, he forgot how heady the atmosphere around Hwitaek was and  _ God, _ he smelled good too. Trying his best not to look up, Hyojong fussed over something on his laptop.

Hwitaek was so hard to ignore, he was radiant and commanded attention in the most frustratingly beautiful way, like a flower that refused to stop blooming. He cleared his throat softly and Hyojong slowly moved his head up to meet the gaze that was boring into him right now. He was annoyingly cute, staring down at Hyojong with a soft smile and bright eyes.

“Hi,” Hwitaek said.

“What?” Hyojong replied. He knew it was his fault, he knew that he hurt Hwitaek more than anyone ever should, he knew that he was being unfair. But a small part of him wanted to be angry at Hwitaek, not for breaking up with him, but for believing everyone else, for agreeing with them. For calling Hyojong a killer.

He was obviously carefully considering his words before continuing. “How long have you worked here?” he drummed his fingers gently on the counter.

Hyojong paused. He had opened the Melody Pad a year ago, but for some reason he didn’t want to just volunteer this information. If Hwitaek wanted to try to befriend him once again, it would take more than that. He hesitated. “A little while now.”

The singer nodded and then dragged his finger in the shape of a circle, chewing on his lip before asking another question. “How long has Jinho been coming here?”

“Are you just going to ask questions?”

Hurt flashed for a second across Hwitaek’s face before he gave Hyojong a dejected smile. “Sorry, I’ll let you work,” he started to pull away from the counter, but Hyojong shot out a hand and grabbed his wrist, trying not to squeeze too much.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. His defensive side had flared, as it always did around Hwitaek. Something about him demanded a fight, he was all soft and gentle, but an underlying side of him seemed to want competition. He was so perfect that Hyojong knew he couldn’t win, but for some reason, he felt like he still had to try. That was Hwitaek’s one fatal flaw, he made people want to try their best, right up until they failed. “I shouldn’t have lashed out.”

Hwitaek stared at where Hyojong was holding his wrist, he touch was as gentle as he could manage and Hyojong wondered for a second if it hurt, so he pulled his hand away. “Jinho’s been coming here for a few months.”

“Are you close?” Hwitaek asked quickly, his eyes still on Hyojong’s hand.

He frowned. Him and Jinho? As if. They barely talked and they were friendly, but Hyojong wouldn’t even consider him a friend, let alone someone he’d consider ‘close’. “What? No. Of course not.”

A laugh seemed to be poised at Hwitaek’s mouth as he nodded. “Right, of course not.”

Was Hwitaek...jealous? Hyojong’s chest started to feel weird as he grew more sure of it, Hwitaek was jealous, he’d seen that look on his face before. Once, a long time ago, when Hyojong had gotten close with Kim Hyuna, another rapper from his label. He knew that face.

It was almost laughable, but before he knew it, Yan An’s voice was mixing in with the pounding of his own heartbeat and Hwitaek was turning to look at the tall Chinese boy. They looked at each other fondly and it made Hyojong want to jump over the counter and hit Yan An in the face, but he held back and watched the way they talked to each other.

“Hey, you,” Hwitaek chirped, a false neutrality.

Yan An gave a small smile in return. “Hello. I set up a membership here and the sound booths are really nice,” he said, but part of Hyojong wondered if he felt obligated to say that, as he was standing right there.

“Good.”

“Let’s go,” Yan An motioned towards the door.

_ He’s leaving again. He’s walking away again. He’ll never come back....It’s for the best. _

Hyojong’s internal monologue was interrupted by Yan An’s voice, thanking him for helping him and Hyojong numbly nodded. He felt dumb, just standing there and staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“Bye,” Hwitaek whispered, tapping the counter once to get his attention. “Let’s...talk soon.”

Yan An raised his eyebrows and observed them both, but he obviously didn’t want to ask any questions, so he pulled his phone out and pretended to look at it. Hyojong almost huffed in bitter amusement, but instead he nodded at Hwitaek.

It was more painful than he’d expected, watching Yan An sling an arm around Hwitaek’s shoulders, their hips bumping together as they walked towards the door. Hyojong could just barely hear their conversation.

“He’s nice, and he was really thorough with the place,” Yan An was saying, motioning around the Pad.

“What do you mean?” Hwitaek looked up at Yan An.

“This place. It’s nice,” he pointed back at Hyojong as he opened the door with his other hand. “His studio.”

Hwitaek cast one more look at Hyojong as he passed through the door, out into the open, where the air was crisp and cool. “ _ His _ studio, eh?”

 

* * *

There was always one place that Hyojong knew he could go if things got too much, whenever he was stressed and just needed somewhere to go and clear his head, he went here. It wasn’t a very big house, but it was warm and the people inside were friendly enough. He knocked hesitantly on the door and was met with a wide smiling face.

“Hey, Eunkwang-hyung,” he greeted.

“Hyojong!” the man chirped, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him in for a hug. He welcomed Hyojong with open arms, always. “Lemme get Minhyuk, okay?”

“If he’s busy, don’t bother,” Hyojong shook his head, but Eunkwang was insistent.

He moved to the bottom of the staircase that was at the end of the small main hallway, the hall led off into a kitchen and then a bathroom to the right. “Minhyuk-ah!” Eunkwang bellowed. Hyojong forgot how loud his voice was.

Eunkwang pulled him into the kitchen, which was decorated somewhat like a grandmother’s kitchen would be, with hot pads that matched the tablecloth and little hen shaped salt and pepper shakers on the counter next to the stove. Everything was spotless and there was a vague scent of baked goods in the air. It was amusing to Hyojong, how Eunkwang could look so imposing when he sang, but then become such an ahjumma at home.

Suddenly, Minhyuk appeared behind Hyojong and he was wrapping his arms around him in an awkward backhug. “Hey, babe,” he purred in the younger’s ear, squeezing him a bit tighter.

“Minhyuk! We talked about this, he’s like a child!” Eunkwang was swatting him away, but Hyojong was laughing anyways.

“I forgot how much of a pervert you are,” Hyojong turned to give Minhyuk a proper hug, pulling away a little too quickly, much to Eunkwang’s amusement. “Speaking of children...” Hyojong trailed off, eyebrows raised.

“Ah,” Eunkwang chuckled. “Ilhoon’s not here today, he’s practicing with Hyunsik, they got new guitars and became giddy like school children.”

“That’s not quite what I meant,” Hyojong smirked. “Although I’m glad to hear that he’s doing well. I meant the adoption, how’s that coming along?”

Minhyuk looked sheepish and he pursed his lips. “We’re just about there. In three weeks, we will have a beautiful baby girl, but there’s more paperwork that needs to be done.”

Hyojong nodded, a grin spreading across his lips. Hearing that his best friend’s were going to be parents was exciting to him. Being an idol rapper, he couldn’t make it known that his best friend was married to his other best friend and that they were going to be adopting a child, but then again, he couldn’t make his own sexuality be known either. He’d gotten used to hiding things.

“Congratulations, really,” he looked at them both, his tone was earnest and they both returned his smile.

“Thanks,” Eunkwang beamed. “You should let Minhyuk tell you about her, he learned everything there is to know,” his words were teasing, but his tone was so fond and proud that Hyojong felt a warm feeling settle in him. Oh, to be in love.

Hyojong listened to every detail about there was to tell. She was African-American and was a year and a half, she was extremely smart for her age and Minhyuk had already started doing research about managing afros so that he could help his daughter feel as beautiful as she looked. Hyojong could tell that he was already going to be an amazing father.

“Dinner’s ready,” Eunkwang said, reaching out to ruffle Hyojong’s hair as he passed by. It was a friendly gesture and Hyojong could feel the decline into comfort that he usually felt here, he would reject the familiarity for as long as possible, but something about these two made him feel loved and safe.

Apparently Eunkwang had just so happened to make Hyojong’s favorite meal, despite Hyojong having texted him to say he was coming over ahead of time. And Eunkwang’s saengseon jjigae was almost better than Hyojong’s mother used to make, so he wasn’t going to complain.

They ate in a happy din of conversation, Minhyuk talking about his work and Eunkwang talking about his, neither of them asked about Hyojong’s because they knew he came here to escape that. He came here to pretend like he wasn’t an idol, to relax and be normal. They asked subtle questions, just to get enough information to know that he’s okay.

“Anyone special?” Eunkwang asked and elbowed him gently, passing a wink.

“No,” Hyojong said, a little too quickly.

“Oh,” somehow, they seemed to say this simultaneously and sunk a bit in their chairs. They were obviously disappointed, but Hyojong couldn’t care less. He didn’t want to explain that he was still hung up on Hwitaek, they would grow concerned for him and try to get him to talk, which he absolutely did not want to do.

They sat in silence for a bit, before Minhyuk started talking about refurnishing the bedroom for their soon-to-be daughter. He got excited as he talked and Hyojong smirked a bit. When Minhyuk got excited, he got loud, he was practically yelling now. So Hyojong just sat and listened, trying not to interject, for fear that he’d get louder.

When dinner was over, Hyojong bid goodbye and they patted his arms and told him that he was going to be okay and that everything was fine. But before Hyojong left, he remembered last minute to grab Eunkwang. “I’ve got a song that needs vocals and...I was hoping I could use yours?”

Eunkwang pursed his lips and paled a little bit. “I’m really not keen on being, well for lack of a better term, exposed. I really just like singing at weddings and karaoke bars,” he chuckled a little at this. The more he talked, the more serious he realized Hyojong was. “I-I’ll talk it over with Minnie and then we’ll get back to you, okay? That’s just a lot of publicity that I don’t know if I want.”

“I understand. Thank you,” Hyojong squeezed his arm and then skipped down the steps. On the two hour train ride home, he considered his situation with Hwitaek. It really wasn’t his place to move forwards at all, he was the one who fucked up and ruined everything, shouldn’t he wait for Hwitaek to come to him? But if he did that...then he’d never see Hwitaek again. He was too smart than to let Hyojong anywhere near him again.

His mind tugged sharply back to the Melody Pad yesterday afternoon, when Hwitaek had asked about him and Jinho, jealous Hwitaek was not something that Hyojong should look into too much, he might get a hard-on on the train, which would be awkward to say the least. If Hwitaek was truly jealous, maybe there was a chance he still wanted Hyojong to be apart of his life, even if he was just a friend. However, Hyojong didn’t want to just be a friend, he wouldn’t be able to handle that. He had enough trouble when Hwitaek was in the room, let alone hanging out with him and watching his relationship with Yan An progress.

When the train stopped in the station in Seoul, Hyojong climbed off, entering the busy subway. It took some work, but he made it to the street, the cool night air was refreshing and a welcome change to the suffocating hubbub of people in the subway station. He began his walk towards home, the Pad was only a few blocks away from the station and he was ready to crash in bed.

On the way, he passed a bar and hesitated, maybe he would stop for a drink...

He decided against it, it was best to just head home. He continued on his way, there was a decent quiet on the street tonight and with his mask pulled up over half of his face, he felt secure. He could walk freely, wherever he wanted and he wouldn’t get recognized. Plus he didn’t look his usual idol self right now, his eyes were tired and his face bare, he preferred it like this anyways.

As he walked down the block right before the Pad, he happened to look into a coffee shop and notice someone, he stopped walking. It was too tall and lanky to not be, he squinted to get a better look, it was. He went and opened the door, slowly walking in. He wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee right now.

“Oh, hey Wooseok,” he said casually, making the younger jump, he was waiting in line and obviously not expecting Hyojong behind him.

“Uhm, hi,” he mumbled awkwardly. He always seemed to be mumbling around Hyojong, how frustrating yet adorable.  
  
“Sorry about yesterday morning, I’m a grouch in the morning,” he explained, looking up at the kid. “Can I buy you coffee?” Wooseok went to shake his head, but Hyojong whispered to him before he could say no, “It’d be rude to refuse.”

Slowly, Wooseok nodded. He bowed lowly and issued a quiet thanks, to which Hyojong waved away, it wasn’t necessary really. He approached the counter and waited for Wooseok to order his “medium hot caramel macchiato” before ordering his own plain coffee.  _ What the hell kind of drink even is that ? It’s so complicated. _ He thought.

They got their coffee and found a booth to sit at, where Hyojong watched Wooseok carefully. He was wearing a big bomber jacket and ripped jeans, a ballcap pulled down over his eyes. He looked like any other teenager, but after listening to his self composed rap from the demo tape, Hyojong knew that he wasn’t quite like the rest his age.

“So...you must be a pretty sad kid,” he sipped his coffee.

Wooseok’s expression soured for a moment, before it loosened. “What makes you say that?”

“I listened to your demo,” he was quiet, not wanting to alert anyone in the cafe that Wooseok was a trainee, he didn’t want to draw attention. There was always that one nosy person who got way too excited about the idea of meeting an idol.

The kid’s expression seemed to lighten a bit before darkening not even a second later, he seemed to be indecisive about his emotions. “Oh, so you,” he hesitated and licked his lips for a second. “You heard all that?”

Hyojong nodded, his mind replaying the lyrics in his head. “ _ I miss you to the point of wanting to die, even now just your name makes me cry, if I could take it all back I would, I still look at the spot where you once stood _ ,” he recited, enjoying watching the blush grow on Wooseok’s face. “You did write those, correct?”

He didn’t want to repeat the rest of the lyrics, knowing that that would be going too far, those were personal to Wooseok, he didn’t want to touch any sensitive areas. Wooseok nodded though and leaned forwards a bit. 

“Can I ask what you thought?”

A huff of breath left Hyojong’s mouth and he reclined in his seat, his elbow propped on the back of the bench. “Honestly?” he prompted, receiving another nod. “It was good.”

Wooseok let out a breath that he probably didn’t know he was holding. “It was really good,” Hyojong continued. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. “Put your number in,” he slid the phone across the table towards him. He watched Wooseok hesitate, as if he thought Hyojong was pulling his leg, but after he gestured towards the phone, growing impatient, then Wooseok excitedly entered his number.

“So,” the young man swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. “What does this mean?”

Hyojong sighed. “You better not make me regret this,” he took another drink from his coffee and leaned forwards, his face inching closer to Wooseok’s. “It means I’ll train you.”

What it really meant, was that for Hyojong, it was time to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3  
> if you need to yell at me, you can find me on twitter @leehwitake c:  
> ALSO the japanese gorilla mv was :OOO AMAZING, so let's yell about that too
> 
> till the next chapter xoxo


	4. Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this :)  
> just a side note, but the maknaes are a bit older in this fic, just for the sake of timelines, so they're probably like...2 years older? 2-3? something like that, I'm too lazy to actually figure it out
> 
> also there's some sexual content in this chapter, beware ^3^

_ “Stop doing that!” Hyojong swatted Yuto’s hand away as he slid the instrumental music clips together, his eyes trained on the screen as he carefuly added the finishing touches. He wanted to make sure that this was perfect and it wouldn’t be perfect if Yuto kept fidgeting and playing with the mouse cord. _

_ Yuto was sitting, somewhat, patiently next to him. He looked like a guard dog, eyes fixed on Hyojong’s every movement and his attention only on the matter at hand...that was until he got bored, then he touched things. Which drove Hyojong mad. _

_ “Seriously, you have to stop fucking breathing so loud or else I’ll break that guitar over there over your head,” Hyojong hissed, listening to the sound of Yuto blow on his hands for the sixth time in the past hour. _

_ Maybe he was a little short tempered today. _

_ But Yuto listened well and straightened up, tucking his hands into his pocket, his eyes not deceiving himself by looking offended in the slightest. He had been allowed to sit and observe Hyojong’s work process, however that was apparently more responsibility than Hyojong had wanted to take on and he hadn’t realized until it was too late. _

_ By the time Hyojong put the last track in, Yuto had officially gotten bored and sat back in his chair, arms folded in his lap. He looked a little sleepy and Hyojong smirked to himself. “There,” he announced. “All done.” _

_ “Really?” Yuto seemed a little too excited. _

_ “Hey, my pride’s right here. The least you could do is tone down your relief,” Hyojong teased, standing up and stretching his arms over his head, his back creaking horrifically. He really needed to get out of his chair more often. “Why? You got somewhere else to be?” _

_ “Well,” Yuto blushed and looked down. “I have a date.” _

_ Hyojong whistled low and then laughed, smacking him on the arm. “I’m starving, you go ahead and do whatever you want, have fun on your date,” he wiggled his eyebrows before leaving the studio room. His body was sore all over and he wasn’t ready for any of the dance practice that he had yet to do that day. _

_ His pain was relieved in the form of Lee Hwitaek, he saw the man walking down the hallway, his three group members moving with him like a pack of dogs, big and firm. He watched the way they moved together, they all walked in sync with the exception of Hwitaek. He was his own man and walked to his own rhythm, that was the first thing that Hyojong had noticed about him, he did not lean towards the normal. Maybe that was why he liked him so much. _

_ “Hwitaek!” Hyojong grinned, waiting for his boyfriend to notice him. _

_ The other members of 4TONE seemed to shudder at the sight of Hyojong and they stopped walking, Hwitaek’s demeanor changing entirely. He went from commanding and strong, to all smiles and “Dawnieeee”, which seemed to bother them. They watched him head for Hyojong and they continued walking without him, Gikwang throwing them a look of discontent. The other members did not approve of their relationship at all and Hyojong mentally cursed them for being homophobic pricks. _

_ “Dawnie,” Hwitaek purred again, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, earning a laugh. “Are you all done with your trainee?” _

_ “Yeah,” Hyojong nodded into Hwitaek’s neck, breathing in the scent of his leather jacket and his cologne, which had a warm scent, something like sunshine and birdsong. It was beyond intoxicating and Hyojong couldn’t help but nip gently at his neck, hearing a soft sigh meet his ears. He loved the sounds he could draw from Hwitaek. _

_ As Hyojong covered Hwitaek’s neck in kisses, his hands traced along his hips, the too tight pants felt soft under Hyojong’s hands and one hand moved back to grip Hwitaek’s ass, the other sliding up and under part of his jacket. Hwitaek pulled away, giving Hyojong a look, before his eyes widened and he look around them. _

_ “Here, Hyojong? Really?” he sounded more amused than anything and that was only encouraging for Hyojong. “Come here.” _

_ Hwitaek grabbed Hyojong by the collar and pulled him along until he met a storage closet, where he tugged him in behind him. He shut the door, the darkness of the closet falling on them, but neither minded. They clashed in a fury of teeth and fingers that dug into each other’s skin, their breaths were reduced to pants as they pressed their bodies together. _

_ Feeling hands sliding down his waist to cup him through his pants, Hyojong groaned low in his throat, Hwitaek was feeling handsy today it seemed. Whenever Hwitaek wore his leather jacket, he gained a certain confidence that Hyojong could live off of. Hwitaek with that kind of confidence? It was dangerously attractive. _

_ The wall met his back as Hwitaek pinned him against it, his tongue probing in and out of Hyojong’s mouth, his teeth scraping over his lip. Hwitaek’s fingers carded through Hyojong’s scalp, scraping along it, making him shudder. His other hand that was still cupped over Hyojong’s groin, gave him a squeeze before moving for the button of his pants. _

_ Watching Hwitaek sink to his knees before him made Hyojong weak everywhere, holding this kind of power was too much. The power to bring Lee Hwitaek to his knees, mouth opening and waiting as he tugged the pants before him past the warm thighs that they clung to. That was the kind of power that men killed for. _

* * *

Hyojong had spent all of one minute watching Wooseok’s demo tape before he decided that he wanted him, the familiar greed filling him. He knew that he was approaching dangerous waters, but he still had that lust inside of him, that sought out talent wherever he could find it and tried to mould it till people noticed it. But his skill at training became too much and the label abused it, using him like a doll that they could bend and craft however they wanted. Making him do things he didn't want to.

That was how he slept at night.  _ They made me do it. _

A sickening feeling was settled in his stomach and he leaned against his desk, he was sure that Wooseok would be a skilled rapper in time, the rest of the lyrics from his demo were stuck in Hyojong’s mind.

_ I'd die to be with you, _

_ Some say I'd die a fool, _

_ But the bed’s cold where you used to lay, _

_ I want to feel you once again, I pray _

_ Begging on my knees, _

_ Just come back to me, please _

_ I break and break every day, _

_ My thoughts pulling me astray, _

_ I know it wasn't because of me, _

_ But I blame myself, just leave me be _

The pain in his voice as these words had spilled from his lips, it reminded Hyojong of a self he once was, a heartbroken angry young man who wanted to turn his rage into art. Wooseok actually did create something worthwhile out of his sorrow and that was where they differed. A part of him admired the kid, another part envied him. All of him wanted him, wanted to train him, wanted to push him to learn and grow. It consumed Hyojong in the moment and he'd rushed to sign Wooseok into an apprentice contract, with Shinwon’s help.

Shinwon was perhaps the best manager Hyojong had ever seen. He was Hyunggu’s unofficial manager/vocal coach/dance partner/best friend/boyfriend and Hyojong admired him every second that he spent with him. He was incredibly smart and a talented dancer and singer, plus he kept Hyunggu in check, which wasn't easy. Hyunggu had debuted with a group about four years ago, but he was so young and didn't stay long. Now he was a soloist that was the head of the R&B-Dance music scene, every starting artist wanted to be him and Hyojong couldn't be prouder.

The door to his office creaked open and he turned to watch Hyunggu slip in, moving to take a seat next to him. He sat there and smiled softly at him.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “For taking him on. I know he won't disappoint.”

Hyojong murmured a response, but was buried in his work now and didn't want to listen to Hyunggu. Hyunggu simply sighed and patted his leg before heading for the door. “I'm going to get started cleaning some of the sound booths, lemme know if you need something.”

And with that he was gone.

Hyojong's mind was in a haze, he couldn't think straight and random fragments of thought slipped in and out of his head. Little pieces of memories from old days of composing, spoken words, hums coming from the body next to him. For some reason he felt haunted these days, everywhere he went, he felt a presence around him. Yuto’s presence.

* * *

Seeing Yan An and Hwitaek not even a week before was enough to stress Hyojong out, but having them come in again, he was ready to pull his hair out. He had been in the middle of sweeping the front lobby when the door opened, a cold blast of air pushed the tall Chinese man and the small bundle of a coat that was towing behind him straight into the Pad, bringing muddy boot prints with them. Hyojong sighed heavily and decided to keep his complaints to himself, when the coat bundle pulled off the three coats he was wearing to reveal Hwitaek, soft expression looking over to meet Hyojong’s.

“Hello,” Yan An waved. “We’ve come to practice.”

Greetings were exchanged and Hyojong checked them in, not even a two minutes since they walked in and they were already disappearing into a sound booth, leaving their coats haphazardly thrown on the coat rack in the corner. Hyojong inwardly groaned. Why did Hwitaek have to come here of all places? Couldn’t he and his boyfriend go practice elsewhere?

Although he knew that he provided the best service that a music studio could, he still questioned why they came here, he was sure that Hwitaek would take one look at him and never come back again. He knew that no one had hurt Hwitaek like he had, no one had caused him pain like Hyojong had, so why would he willingly allow him around him again?

Too many questions were plaguing his thoughts and he was having trouble focusing on his chores, so he resigned and decided to try getting some exercise. At the very back of the studio, he had a fully equipped dance practice room, mirrors covering two walls and speakers installed along the ceiling. It was his closest safe space, where he could go and unwind and relax entirely. It also provided as a private dance studio for Hyunggu, where they had spent hours with Shinwon, who simply shook his head, laughing at them. They worked their asses off and ended the day sweating and happy.

It wasn’t very big, but it was filled with memories that clung to the walls like perspiration on a shower door, the floor was worn, a sign of love at this point. He was fond of the room, even if it did reek of sweat and chalk, the big open window at the side of the room providing some fresh air if he needed, but he mostly kept the shutters closed. He plugged his phone into the set of speakers at the side of the room, selecting a song that had particularly caught his interest recently.

He allowed the music to flow through him, his body moving accordingly, his joints became loose and his mind numbed as he twisted and whirled in his spot, following each beat of the music. It was good to lose yourself in the music, he could leave all of his worries out of mind as he focused on the sounds of the song, the way it rose and fell like breathing. Appropriately, he let it breathe through him, his chest heaving with each movement, the music rising and falling around and inside of him.

He got so lost in the song that he didn’t hear the door open and it wasn’t until he looked into the mirror and saw the soft expression of Hwitaek staring back at him, awe written on his face and in his eyes. Hyojong jolted in surprise and went to pause the loud music. He chewed on his lip, looking up at Hwitaek, who was giving him a tiny smile in return.

“I didn’t know you still danced,” he commented.

“I didn’t know you didn’t knock,” Hyojong’s tone was teasing and not as emotional as he was feeling. Seeing Hwitaek in general was surprising recently, let alone him coming out of nowhere when he wasn’t expected. He swallowed thickly and then asked. “Are you guys all done then?”

Hwitaek shook his head, moving to sit on the bench that was positioned up against the wall. “No, Yan An wanted some time alone to practice,” he explained, hands braced on his knees as he leaned forwards. “I’ve been training him, normally he’s fine with me being there, but every now and then he needs to stretch his vocals in private.”

“Are you two...” Hyojong stopped himself, he had no business asking that, so he changed the subject. “He said he wasn’t apart of a label.”

“He’s not,” Hwitaek’s head tilted ever so slightly. “I still am, but he’s sort of my side project.”

A heavy feeling plummeted to the bottom of his stomach and he nodded simply, he was sure of it now. ‘Side project’, he mentally snorted, what a cowardly way to phrase that. “So you’re dating?” he asked bitterly, despite telling himself several times not to ask.

Hwitaek looked at him with wide eyes. “Far from it,” he replied in a small voice.

Hyojong felt hope fill his chest, mixed with shock. He was sure of it, he had been positive that they were dating. But...they weren’t...

“But you’re always holding his hand?”

He laughed, his eyes crinkled in that addictively cute way. “Have you seen him? He’s like an oversized kid. It’s hard to tell him no when he holds your hand, besides,” he shrugged. “Friends can hold hands. Don’t tell me you’re close minded now.”

Hyojong shook his head, unable to form any words. He wasn’t sure when the idea of restoring his relationship with Hwitaek had even become an option in his head, but he had a niggling excitement that was building up in his chest and he shuddered slightly. What if they could rekindle what they’d once had?

“I’ve missed you,” Hwitaek murmured in the quiet.

_ What if... _

Before his brain could keep up with his body, Hyojong had crossed the room to where Hwitaek was, he’d grasped his face in his hands and pressed their mouths together. He breathed deeply through his nose, feeling the smoothness of Hwitaek’s lips against, the warm breath that bled out of his nose and onto Hyojong’s top lip. It was awkward, to say the least. Hwitaek was frozen to the spot and Hyojong was suddenly regretting everything he’d ever done.

The stillness didn’t last long, because before he knew it, Hwitaek was shoving him away - no, back, not away. He turned and pushed him until his back was pressed against the wall, his hands twisting and tangling into his shirt, holding him still. The forcefulness that Hwitaek was using sent blood straight to Hyojong’s dick, feeling himself starting to harden.

Hwitaek pinned their bodies together, shoving a knee between Hyojong’s legs, his thigh flush against his crotch, holding him in place. There was no way he could move without grinding against Hwitaek’s thigh, which he wasn’t planning on doing just yet. Hwitaek’s mouth slotted against his own and his tongue prodded his lips until they fell open, allowing easier access.

Their tongues twisted together, Hyojong’s teeth catching on Hwitaek’s lip, making him whimper. He dragged his mouth across Hyojong’s, moving down to clasp his teeth onto the younger’s neck, drawing a gasp and a whine from his abandoned mouth. There was nothing that Hyojong could’ve done today that could’ve remotely prepared him for this.

It didn’t take long for Hwitaek to have his neck marked and hands sliding under the trim of his t-shirt, tugging it up to his chest, tucking it under his armpits. He knelt down, latching his mouth to Hyojong’s stomach, his teeth scraping the soft flesh there, Hyojong’s cock now straining against the confines of his pants, it was throbbing painfully as Hwitaek’s chest brushed it.

He muffled a moan in his hand, biting down on his palm, his heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he was sure it would burst out any second now. As soon as he felt Hwitaek’s fingers digging into his hip, his body jerked violently, trying to gain more friction on his dick. He gasped softly and then felt a coldness wash over him.

_...The kind of power that men killed for... _

A frown crossed over his features and he reached down to push Hwitaek away, watching the older stumble back and fall down onto his butt, staring up at Hyojong in shock. “What?” he gasped out and Hyojong stared back, his eyes bright and alert.

“This isn’t right,” he murmured, tugging his t-shirt back down, straightening his clothing. He shouldn’t have let it get that far, he’d gotten distracted by the touch of Hwitaek’s hands, letting himself get lost in it. How stupid he’d been.

“What do you mean?” Hwitaek scrambled to his feet, looking a little indignant and he brushed his hands off on his pants.

“I mean this, us, we’re...” he trailed off, shaking his head and waving his hand in a dismissive way. “It’s all wrong, we didn’t work out before, why would we this time?” he sighed. His hands were wringing through his hair now and he felt stress coming over him. He normally didn’t get this worked up.

Hwitaek was blinking at him, confusion mixing with hurt as it splashed across his features, creasing the smooth skin of his forehead. He swallowed and then seemed to force a brave face. “So...you’re saying...we’ll always be like this?” he looked up through the strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “We’ll always be...wanting, but never having?”

The weight of the words was painful on Hyojong’s chest and they panged around inside of his ribs, he fixed his eyes on one point in front of him, it would be too painful to look at Hwitaek directly. He nodded slowly. “I guess so.”

“Why?” Hwitaek sounded suddenly desperate and Hyojong’s heart lurched. “Why would we do that to ourselves? Isn’t that too much? Self abuse, that’s a thing, you know that, don’t you? Self harm, whatever words you want to use to describe it. It’s real and that’s what you’re doing to yourself.”

The desperation that was present in his voice made Hyojong wonder if there was a chance, he wasn’t sure what he had been looking for all this time, but he knew that he wanted it badly. “Isn’t that what I deserve?”

Before Hwitaek had a chance to answer, the door to the dance practice room was hauled open and a shocked Hyunggu was standing on the other side. He cleared his throat and then moved like he was going to close the door again and leave, but Hwitaek spoke up before he had a chance. “I should get going,” he ran a hand through his hair, a contemplative look settling on his features and he walked towards the door.

Hyojong slowly felt his heart sink the last few inches before it was truly at the bottom of his stomach and he groaned inwardly, giving an exasperated look to Hyunggu, who seemed just as confused as anyone.

As soon as Hwitaek was gone, Hyunggu turned wide eyed to Hyojong. “What the hell was that?”  
  
Shaking his head - he really couldn’t think of an answer - Hyojong paced around the room for a moment, before leaving the practice room and an entirely lost Hyunggu behind. He needed some space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading~  
> I hope you all liked it <3


	5. Come back to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not relevant to this chapter, but I think I should point out that I see Hwitaek as a little bit thicker in this than he is irl, bc I love me a thicc boy

_ “This is all you’ve got?” Hyojong sighed bitterly and tossed the paper onto the desk in front of him. He felt drained, he was tired and he’d put in hours upon hours of helping someone whom he’d thought had potential, but hadn’t improved at all. Maybe he was wrong about Yuto from the start. _

_ He turned to look at the Japanese kid, whose head was hung low. Hyojong had just spent three hours trying to fight for Yuto’s apprenticeship with him, but the label deemed him hopeless and said that Hyojong’s efforts were being wasted. _

_ “Just drop him,” they’d said, brushing off Hyojong’s protests. “We’ll put him back at square one, I don’t care how long it takes.” _

_ “He’s been training for years already, you can’t just pull him back to the sta-” _

_ “We can and we will and you’re going to do what you’re told. Drop him, E’Dawn. We can’t waste our time with someone who’s not willing to learn.” _

_ Hyojong’s heart was heavy, he hated to do this to Yuto. But he had to, if not for his own sake, then for Yuto’s. He obviously wasn’t learning with Hyojong’s help, it would be best for him to find someone who could help him. _

_ “I-I can’t help you anymore,” Hyojong stuttered out, finding Yuto’s eyes meeting his, the younger’s dark and intense gaze burning into his own. He felt small in front of the other. _

_ Yuto’s voice was heavy and he chose each word carefully. “What do you mean?” _

_ “I mean you can’t train with me anymore, you’re going back to the beginning of training. This - whatever we’ve been doing - obviously isn’t helping you, so you need to start over again,” Hyojong had rushed through the explanation, but Yuto had caught every word. _

_ Calm, placid, these were words that Hyojong would’ve put to describe Yuto, because Yuto always fell under these criteria. He never raised his voice and he never truly got angry, but his expression here darkened. If there were little clouds around his head, they’d be storming. His eyes went from black to blacker and his lips drew tight. He looked furious - which for Yuto was beyond a stretch. _

_ Hyojong took a step back, there was nothing he could’ve done to prepare for this. He figured Yuto would simply nod and walk away, but not this time, this time was different. An icy feeling shot into Hyojong’s stomach as Yuto rose to his full height, his full 4 inches taller than Hyojong - in his defence, it felt like a lot more than it seemed - and he furrowed his brows. _

_ “I’m not starting over,” he growled. “You can’t just give up on me.” _

_ There was a cold change in the air around them and Hyojong wondered if there was a part of Yuto that was similar to himself, a part that snapped when stressed or overworked. There were thin lines between the normal and a hidden persona for Hyojong and he was curious of it was the same for Yuto, if he had simply snapped one of the strings, only to watch the kid fall apart in front of him. _

_ “I’m not giving up on you, I just have better things to do than waste time with you,” Hyojong threw another log onto the fire, wondering if there was a limit to Yuto’s anger. He wanted to push, see just how many emotions that the younger was capable of feeling. It was a sadistic test, but the desire to see the results of it consumed Hyojong and he couldn’t stop himself. “You’re not improving. Why would I spend anymore time trying when you’re obviously useless?” _

_ Yuto fumed, before reaching for the jacket that he’d flung over the back of a chair, snatching it up into his hands. “You’re not fucking better than anyone, hyung. Your time is not of a higher value than anyone else’s. You’re nothing special,” he snarled and exited the room, letting the door slam behind him. _

_ Hyojong watched with a sinking feeling in his gut, what was wrong with all of this? Why did he have such a heavy feeling beginning to overcome him? He tried to take a drink of water from his sports bottle, but couldn’t swallow, it was thick and disgusting in his throat and he almost choked. _

_ This wasn’t going to end well. _

* * *

It didn’t take long for Hyojong to work himself into a genuinely stressed out frenzy, all but tearing out his own hair. He had kicked his desk at least twice so far and had had a moment where he considered deleting the song he was working on, but he knew that that was the last thing he should be doing, so he settled for screaming into the mic for no reason.

How could he be so stupid as to let Hwitaek take control of him again? Why was he still so willing to give in to him? One glance and Hwitaek could make Hyojong start drooling and follow him around like a lost dog, it was infuriating. But on top of being so damn frustrating, part of Hyojong was still hurt by Hwitaek.

They had hurt each other over and over again until they reached the point they were at now, Hwitaek wanting Hyojong back and Hyojong too scared of the other - and himself, to let that happen. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that he would just end up hurting Hwitaek again, or Hwitaek would end up hurting him. It was their thing.

Hyunggu had been by a few times, knocked on the door, but Hyojong had snarled and cursed at him, which sadly wasn’t anything new for them. Anytime that Hyojong was in a bad mood, he got like this and Hyunggu was the only person that he knew that had the patience to deal with him.

He truly felt bad for all of the shit that he’d put Hyunggu through, he wasn’t sure why he kept coming back, he had far too many fans and far too much work to do to waste his time with Hyojong. So why did he come back every time? Hyojong had never deserved him.

Mustering up all of his energy, Hyojong sat down and opened his files, looking for one of his old abandoned songs, he had quite literally hundreds of would be songs sitting in his computer. He would get about halfway through a song before giving up, his inspiration for them leaving him.

There was one file labeled  _ 131 _ , he frowned, not recognizing the name. He spoke aloud to himself as he clicked on the file. “When did you get here?” he whispered under his breath. The file took a moment to load, having not been touched in what seemed to be years, the saved date was from a few years ago.

Hyojong smirked to himself, he was a completely different person back then, he probably named it at random, just picking the first few numbers he saw. He was still chuckling as the audio file started playing, but straining to listen, the melody was unfamiliar. His smile disappeared slowly as he listened.

It was a slower song, but was slowly gaining a form of confidence as it continued, the synth sounds in the foreground were slightly overbearing in contrast to the light piano melody in the background. Hyojong didn’t need to strain his ears to hear each note, it was well balanced and flowed with ease. He was impressed with whatever former self had made this, even if he didn’t recall doing it.

A voice started rapping smoothly, it wasn’t Hyojong’s. It was the deep, gravelly tone of Yuto, which made Hyojong’s ears burn, a voice he hadn’t heard in years. His heart ached for a moment, before his brain focused on the words that Yuto was rapping.

_ I held your hand as we danced under a blanket of dark _

_ At some point during all of this, there was a spark _

_ You with the stars in your eyes, only talked about the ones in the sky _

_ Maybe if we’re lucky, this love will never die _

_ So let’s hold onto each other, don’t let go _

_ Cause baby you’re a light and I can’t stand the way you glow _

_ Your touch, your skin, your lips, I’ve started to miss _

_ The way you used to look at me, please just one more kiss _

_ I can’t stop the way I feel, I know it’s supposed to be wrong _

_ But you make me feel alive, just how long _

_ Come back to me _

The feeling that had swarmed inside of Hyojong made him choke slightly and he leaned back in his chair. Yuto had never showed these lyrics to him, he had never even presented the melody, and yet he had made the song all on his own and just left it to sit in his computer files.

You know that feeling of regret? The kind that makes you feel stupid, where you know that if you had just done one thing differently, if someone had done one thing differently...then everything would have been okay? That was what Hyojong was feeling. The aching longing sense of regret that made him realized that if Yuto had just showed these lyrics to him, that the company would have been fine with it, they wouldn’t have made Hyojong drop him. He could’ve stayed with Hyojong, he could’ve stayed alive.

Hyojong squeezed his eyes shut against the light of his computer screen, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him, his head dropping into his hands. “None of that had to happen, if he would have just...” a sob slipped out from Hyojong’s lips, tearing his throat open, making his chest heave. “You idiot,” he whispered against the palm of his hand. “You didn’t have to die...”

A pounding knock made Hyojong jolt, cursing under his breath. He looked so stupid, sitting here crying at his desk, he was supposed to be working, there was no time to cry. He swiped at his eyes with his sleeves and went to open the door to his office, an expectant frown placed on his face.

He was met with the broad figure of Shinwon, a calm smile was resting on the man’s lips and his good looks - really it was stupid - made Hyojong frown in response. “What do you want?” he asked irritably.

He was met with Shinwon’s usual cool demeanor, as he pulled out his phone and tapped around till he found what he wanted, at which point Hyojong was presented with Shinwon’s calendar, the current day was marked with “Working @Melody Pad”. Hyojong sighed and followed Shinwon to the front desk, where the rapper pulled up his laptop to find the schedule, where he helped the other punch in.

“There, now you’ll get paid. Just...don’t bother me right now, okay?”

Shinwon simply nodded, watching him return to his office. He was a man of few words, surprisingly enough, but it was owed to his incredible ability of displaying his emotions across his face. He could be an actor if he wanted to, he was good looking, smart and expressive. His one default was his slight lisp, which he’d received a lot of backlash about, mostly from his parents or schoolmates. Hyojong wondered if Shinwon was bullied a lot during school and that was why he didn’t talk a lot, but he didn’t want to pry, so he had never asked.

Now back in the safety and quiet of his office, he felt a gross incompetent feeling, there was no way he’d be able to actually get any work done today. He grabbed his keys from his desk and went in search of Shinwon, who had already started wiping down the sound proof glass dividers between the tech booths and the recording studio. He knocked on the wall to obtain the younger’s attention.

“I’m going out,” he announced.

“Okay,” Shinwon called in response.

* * *

The coffee shop that was down the block from the Melody Pad was nice, but it wasn’t the atmosphere that Hyojong preferred, so he walked the two extra blocks that he needed to before he reached a different coffee shop. It was Seoul, it wasn’t hard to find a cafe.

He entered the cafe, enjoying the grungier aesthetic of the wooden ceiling and steel countertops, the coffee was served in old chipped mugs and the to-go orders were all in biodegradable cup holders and bags. It was more comfortable for Hyojong, plus it was eco friendly, which despite all of his fussing, was important to Hyojong.

His order was simple, he wanted a plain dark coffee and a scone and he didn’t have to wait long for either, the ugly grey mug that his coffee came in fit his hand well and the warmed caramel scone was in a paper bag with some extra napkins. He observed the available seating inside, it was one of the more expensive coffee shops in Seoul and all of the good seats were already taken by men with bluetooths and women with laptops, all business folk and focused on their work.

Grudgingly, Hyojong climbed the set of stairs to the rooftop seating, finding a table in the center, where he couldn’t see the ground directly below. He wasn’t good with heights. If he looked out across the city, he could see rooftop upon rooftop, some with little gardens, some bare and some with little sunbathing chairs and umbrellas. It was a nice day and his warm coffee and scone made the weather feel just that much nicer.

Just as he started into his scone, he heard a familiar voice calling his name and his innards cringed, anyone but him, really, anyone but him.

“Hyojong! I thought it was you,” a face came into view, the first thing Hyojong noticed was the blinding smile and then the flop of black hair. The newcomer sat down at his table, uninvited, his hands clapping together with joy. “I forgot you worked on this side of the city.”

He considered pretending as if he didn’t recognize him, but he had already given the initial look of shock that confirmed that he did indeed know him. “Ah, Changgu...it’s been awhile,” Hyojong grimaced, able to subtly play it off as a smile.

“Yeah! It really has!” Changgu let out a guffaw-ish laughter, his hands clapping together again. During their trainee days, everyone knew him by his constant bowing, waving, clapping and laughing, everyone except Hyojong thought it was cute. Hyojong just found it annoying. “Geez, are you still dancing?”

Hyojong nodded slowly, trying to think of a subject change so he wouldn’t have to ask Changgu the same, he really didn’t want to know about his life. He just wanted to eat his scone in peace. “I see you still have a lot of energy,” he spoke carefully, his lips pressed together.

Changgu’s eyes widened as he leaned forwards. “Wow, you remember a lot more than I thought you would. You always seemed so quiet and standoffish that us other trainees never really wanted to befriend you, but you’re really a lot more attentive than I thought you were,” his rambling went by a little too quickly for Hyojong to keep up, but he was sure he’d caught the gist of it.

“Oh,” was all he offered in response and he buried his nose in his coffee cup, hoping that Changgu would leave.

But he seemed determined to stay and launched into some old memory he had of their time training together, it took everything in Hyojong not to roll his eyes. He was sure that if he just walked away right now, that it would reflect poorly on him and Changgu - being the loudmouth that Hyojong remembered him to be - would most likely tell the wrong person and it would do considerable damage to his career.

It was going to take a lot, but Hyojong took a deep breath and said politely. “You know what Changgu, I’m sorry, I’ve got some work to do back at the Pad. But you should stop by sometime, we’ll see if we can catch up then.”

He stood up from his table and gave Changgu a tight lipped smile, which seemed to delight him and Changgu stood up too. “Of course! Of course, sorry I didn’t realize you were busy, you should’ve stopped me before,” he laughed again and bowed. “I’ll be sure to stop by, see you.”

Hyojong waved over his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs and descended them, where he was deposited back into the bustle of the cafe below. It was a struggle, but he managed to find his way back onto the streets, where he began looking for a taxi to flag. He really just wanted to go home now, not back to his office, but to his bed where he could sleep through the rest of the day.

This of course was an unrealistic goal as when he returned to the Melody Pad, there was a bit of an argument taking place inside. He frowned as he entered, seeing Hyunggu throw his hands up in the air exasperatedly, before having an outburst. “Well, maybe if you decided to communicate how you were feeling once in awhile then this wouldn’t be a problem!”  
  
Shinwon was standing with his hands in his back pockets, leaning his weight on one leg - Hyojong was suddenly reminded of his accident awhile back, where he’d injured his calf. “ _ Jagi _ ,” Shinwon sighed. “I’ve told you time and again, I don’t like going. Why do you keep trying to drag me with you?”

“Because you’re my manager!”

“Not legally, technically-”

“I don’t want to hear the technicalities! Just tell me whether or not you’ll be there!”

“I won’t!” Shinwon shrugged, as if it was the plainest thing in the world. He hadn’t raised his voice once and Hyojong wondered if he was even capable of doing so.

Hyunggu huffed and grabbed his jacket before shoving past Hyojong to fly out the door behind him, Hyojong raised his eyebrows and looked up at Shinwon. “What’s his deal?” he asked, moving farther into the Pad to lean against the desk.

The younger man stared where Hyunggu had left for a second, before he folded his arms across his chest and turned to look at Hyojong. “He was invited to a movie premiere and has to attend, as it would be rude to refuse. But he wanted me to go with him.”

“And you won’t...?” Hyojong couldn’t really see why he wouldn’t want to go, other than the issue of hundreds of cameras snapping in your face.

“No, I won’t,” Shinwon nodded, turning to grab his rag and finish wiping down whatever it was he’d been cleaning but Hyojong stopped him.    
  
“Why not? You are sort of his manager.”

Shinwon fixed him with a blank expression before sighing slightly, he spoke slowly, as if explaining to someone much stupider than himself. “Because there are plenty of security that will be provided by the label, so there’s no reason for me to be there. But more than that, Hyunggu doesn’t want me to go as his manager, he wants me there are his boyfriend and...that kind of appearance isn’t good for his publicity.”

Before Hyojong could reply, Shinwon had already moved past him to go finish his work, leaving the rapper to sit and ponder this. It’s true that appearing with a male escort could be damaging, but...shouldn’t we be allowed to love who we wanted to love? How was it fair for Hyunggu to be denied by the man he loves just because the media was twisted? How was any of it fair?

A sort of bitter feeling settled in Hyojong and he went to his office, where he sat at his desk, not touching his computer, his thoughts surrounding him. Why did the world have to work like this? Why couldn’t they love freely? Why did the world act as if they were in the wrong, why was love restricted? Why...why should Hyojong deny love due to his past mistakes?

Why was he punishing himself...and Hwitaek, because of something that had happened years ago? It wasn’t fair, not to him nor to Hwitaek.

“Stop blaming yourself,” he whispered to himself, the office was still dark as he hadn’t turned on any lights when he came in, and he was left to consider this train of thought while staring at the blank darkness around him. “It wasn’t your fault...”

* * *

_ “He stepped in front of the car, there was nothing the driver could do.” _

_ The words glanced past Hyojong, his ears denying them as they were spoken, there was no way...this couldn’t have happened, it just wasn’t right. He was here, just hours ago. He was standing right here, there was no way he was...was dead. _

_ His ears started to ring, his vision blurring and then clearing, only to blur again. He felt like he was going to fall over, what the hell was happening? His head pounded and he couldn’t focus on anything. He felt like his body wasn’t his own, he wasn’t here, he was there, but he wasn’t quite there either. Nothing made sense and hours seemed pass in what was only seconds as he sat unmoving, his gaze focused on the wall across from him. _

_ “E’Dawn? Did you hear me?” the label representative reached out to touch his shoulder, but he yanked away. “E’Dawn?” _

_ He blinked and then looked at the man in front of him, he couldn’t remember his name, Gong...something. Gong Young, maybe. He rubbed his face with his hands, hoping to regain some kind of grip on the world around him, everything was happening too fast and he couldn’t concentrate. _

_ “So...Yuto....” _

_“He died. Hyojong? Are you listening to me?”  
  
_ _Hyojong nodded and reached out a hand to grab the doorframe next to him, the small composing room behind him felt miles away as he glanced over his shoulder, his computer screen too bright in the dark room. “He died...”  
_ __  
"Yes, they think he might have, y’know, stepped in front of the car on purpose. It’s hard to believe, but he must have had his reasons.”

_ His words from earlier seemed to swirl before his eyes, in thick letters that stabbed at Hyojong’s eyes and made him close them.  _ “Why would I spend anymore time trying when you’re obviously useless?”  _ When he opened his eyes again to see Gong-Whoever staring at him, the most obvious answer seemed to fall from his lips. _

_ “It’s all my fault...” _

* * *

Hyojong pressed his face into his hand as he turned his computer on, his screen blindingly bright, a contrast to the heavy dark feeling inside of him. He stared at the file labeled  _ 131 _ and bit his lip.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts, you can hmu on twitter if you wanna shout at me: @leehwitake


	6. Adachi Yuto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's been enjoying this!  
> Sorry this update is a little late, but I'm wondering if I should make Sunday's my update days. Thoughts?

It was hard work, accepting yourself, forgiving yourself, loving yourself. But Hyojong knew that for his own sake, he needed to put the work in, so he tried, as hard as he could. He ate well, he drank lots of water and he forced the words “It wasn’t your fault” deeper and deeper into his brain until they seemed to ingrained at the back of his skull. It was a repetitive mantra, echoing in his thoughts as he went about his day.

It had been a long time since Hyojong felt good about himself, but he had a full belly, he was showered and his face was washed, so he looked good if nothing else. He had finished a song and even sent the demo to his producing company, it was a good week. But he was only halfway through Thursday and he now realized...he had nothing to do.

He was bored.

He was bored beyond reason and was stuck sitting in his kitchen, tapping his metal chopsticks against his plate, the clinking sound ringing through the empty room and echoing back to him. Echoes always reminded him of dogs, it was like a game of fetch, you throw it and it always comes back to you.

The thought occurred to him and he perked up, maybe he should get a dog, that would keep him busy...but he didn’t have the patience to train a dog, so that was out of the question. Maybe he should get some form of pet, something big that he could cuddle with...what was big and cuddly that wasn’t a dog.

His phone buzzed and he looked down to see a text from Hyunggu that read ‘Visitor’, he sighed and climbed off his stool. He wasn’t supposed to be working today and he’d told Hyunggu very seriously, not to call or text him for any reason.

He trudged down the stairs that led to the Melody Pad, opening the door and finding himself in the hall at the back of the building. He pulled his button up a little tighter around himself, hiding his graphic tee that read “I don’t fucking fit” and he walked down the hall to enter the main room, where Hyunggu was sitting at the main desk.

His eyes followed the younger’s to the sitting area, where big and cuddly, sat Wooseok, looking for all the world like an actual puppy. Who needed a real dog? Hyojong felt a slightly wider than it should be smile appear on his face and he motioned for Wooseok to follow him.

The recording booths weren’t the ideal size, but they were big enough to fit Hyojong and Wooseok together, where Hyojong pulled up a stool and took a seat, gesturing for Wooseok to step up to the mic. They started easy, Hyojong giving him different songs to rap, then a few beats to freestyle to, then having him freestyle on his own. Hyojong hated how well the kid kept up with every single one.

After over an hour of practice, running through at least four different songs, Hyojong patted the kid on the back. “I’ve gotta check on Hyunggu, okay? I’ll be back, keep going,” he left the recording room, as Wooseok started back into one of the more complicated raps that Hyojong had set up for him.

Hyunggu was sitting at the front desk, a magazine spread out in front of him and a mahjongg game up on the laptop in front of him, he looked thoroughly bored.

“Hey,” Hyojong tapped on the desk, getting the younger’s attention.

He was given a peace sign. “Jinho and Hongseok are here, they both walked in at the same time and gave each other a super weird look, before they disappeared into their little booths,” he shrugged indifferently, his game seemed to be far more entertaining than anything that he was talking about.

Hyojong sighed, as much as he appreciated Hyunggu’s help, despite his busy schedule, sometimes the kid could get on his nerves. He went to the kitchen to grab some water and a snack, feeling his stomach grumble angrily. He hadn’t eaten since lunch and he realized that it was now almost 6pm, he found an energy bar and a half eaten container of takeout Chinese food.

The energy bar, he pocketed and the leftover Chinese food, he placed in the microwave and went in search of Wooseok, who was still working hard in the recording room. “Hey, you hungry?” 

Wooseok looked back at him and a pathetic expression fell on his features, he pouted slightly and nodded. “God, yes.”

They were going to need more than leftovers, so Hyojong motioned for Wooseok to follow him. “Hey, Hyunggu, there’s leftover Chinese food in the microwave if you want it,” upon seeing the younger’s nose wrinkle miserably, he remembered that he was on a diet. “Ah, right. Um, give it to Hongseok and Jinho?”

Hyunggu nodded, his face pathetic and Hyojong grabbed his keys and his wallet, before leaving the Pad - Wooseok in tow. He took him around back where his car was parked, climbing in the driver’s seat and unlocking the car, so the kid could get in the passenger seat. Hyojong regretted spending so much money on a nice car, it guzzled so much gas and he wished he’d been a little smarter with his car choice, but it still ran well and looked good, so he figured he’d make do for now.

* * *

 

They drove down the streets of Seoul, the traffic wasn’t too bad today and they had made it to the other side of the city in a short time, Wooseok staring out the window at all the tall buildings, looking for all the world like a little kid. Hyojong smirked a bit and turned into the parking lot for a nice bulgogi restaurant, knowing that Wooseok probably couldn’t afford to eat meat very often.

He could tell he was right upon seeing the delighted look of disbelief on Wooseok’s face, Hyojong smirked and climbed out of the car, the cool air reminding him that he should’ve grabbed a jacket. He shivered slightly and started walking towards the restaurant, glancing behind him to make sure that Wooseok was following.

They entered the building, the heated bustle of the restaurant was pleasing and the smell of freshly cooked meat made them both exchange a pleased look, Hyojong knew that he'd won the kid over. Which meant it was time for Hyojong’s favorite part of getting to know a trainee, the part where he bought them dinner and pried into their past, he really shouldn’t find learning about someone so enjoyable, but for some reason he did.

He ordered them each a plate of meat and some rice and they sat down at the table, the grill in the center of the table was already oiled appropriately and Hyojong twisted the knob to turn it on. Wooseok sat across from him and folded his hands in his lap, he looked hesitant and shy. That wouldn’t do at all.

Hyojong leaned back in his seat and tilted his head slightly, an easy smile creeping onto his face. “So, what’s your story?”   
  
“What do you mean?” the kid asked, his eyebrows raising, he appeared almost defensive and Hyojong internally grimaced.

“Your life, kid, tell me about it. I don’t want to keep working with a stranger.”

Wooseok’s lips pursed and his face seemed to furrow, his elbows were propped on the table and he seemed to be deep in thought. Surely someone wouldn’t have to think to come up with their life story.

“I was born in Gwangju, my parents...they were okay, my mom raised me well, my dad worked all the time. When I was 13, they...they died in a car crash. It was rough, coming back from that, but my dad’s best friend took me in and raised me on his own. Junhyung, that’s his name. He’s tried really hard to be good to me, but I know sometimes I test his patience,” he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“I started rapping when I was 16, my friends and I picked it up in school, we were just messing around really, but...I don’t know, I guess I was good at it. My friends told me to audition at a label, but I never really got around to it, there were other things to focus on. School, work, and y’know, I had someone. It’s a lot harder to plan your life when you’ve got someone else’s to consider too.”

Hyojong listened to all of this, not raising any questions or interrupting, he just listened. When Wooseok seemed to be finished, he leaned forwards, slight curiosity overcoming him. “Your girlfriend, what’s she like?”

The younger rapper seemed to frown for a second, as if he didn’t like the question or didn’t want to think about her.  _ Must be an ex, _ Hyojong thought, before Wooseok started talking again. “She, uh, she was great. We were friends at first, before we started dating. We used to lay under the stars, she would point out the ones she knew, I used to tease her for it, she was kind of...a nerd, I guess. Sometimes we would...” he trailed off, his eyes now sparkling with tears.

“Go ahead,” Hyojong urged softly.

“It’s kind of stupid, but we used to dance...we would wait till nighttime and I would bring my ipod and we would just dance in the grass, in our barefeet. I thought it was romantic at the time, but looking back, I probably looked really stupid,” he sniffed. “Anyways, it was a long time ago.”

“When did you guys break up?”

Wooseok’s eyes, which he was now dabbing at with a napkin, noticed the waitress bringing their meat. “Uhm, a few years back. I haven’t really been able to...to move on.”

There was a certain pain in his voice that made Hyojong assume she broke up with him, poor kid seemed to be really heartbroken, even after all these years. Something about Wooseok’s story sounded familiar and Hyojong wondered if he had seen something similar in a movie, but he wasn’t sure and didn’t want to think about it now. He’d figure it out eventually.

“How do you like yours?” he asked, placing some meat on the grill.

“However is fine, I’m not picky,” Wooseok waved his hand, indifferent and sniffed again, wiping his eyes again.

As soon as all the meat was grilled and eaten, they both sat back and wiped their mouths, stomachs full and hearts happy. They paid and left, Hyojong noticing that it was considerably darker outside than when they’d arrived, as it was now about 7:30. As they were walking to the car, Hyojong noticed the way Wooseok’s footsteps seemed to lag and he stopped to look at the kid.

“What’s up?” he asked, getting no response in return. He sighed and leaned on the hood of the car, looking over it at Wooseok. “Wooseok-ah, what’s wrong?” he sounded a bit more stern now.

“Nothing, I guess. I don’t know, you just got me thinking a lot about...my ex,” he shrugged and Hyojong sighed a bit. There was a fine line between reminiscing about a past relationship and missing someone who you couldn’t be with anymore, Hyojong understood the line all too well and could see that Wooseok had passed over into the crying into a glass of wine and eating too much ramen side of it.

Hasn’t it been a few years since you guys broke up? Can’t you just call her or something? Hyojong wanted to ask these questions, he wanted to be critical and judge him, but he knew that not even six months ago, he’d been in the same spot. Who was he to mock or question Wooseok’s feelings? And anyways, he didn’t even know the whole story...

He let out a sigh, maybe it’d be good for the kid to talk about her. “Hey,” he drew Wooseok’s attention from the starry sky, where he was now staring sadly. “What’s her name?” he asked.

Wooseok looked over at Hyojong, his eyes budding with tears again, the glimmery drops starting to trickle down his face. “His.”

“Oh,” Hyojong thought he understood now, why Wooseok had been so weird about all of it, why he’d hesitated every time they brought up his old relationship. Maybe that was why they’d broken up too, it was a lot harder to keep relationships alive as you grew older, but even more so when they were so called ‘restricted’ and frowned upon by most of the country.

Wooseok sniffled pathetically, wiping his nose on his sleeve, before climbing into the passenger seat of the car. Hyojong sighed and climbed into the driver’s side, starting up the engine and listening to it spit and growl for a minute before pulling out of the parking lot. They drove in silence the entire way back to the Melody Pad, Hyojong had accepted that Wooseok simply didn’t want to talk about it, which he was slightly grateful for, as he really didn’t want to listen to him cry anymore.

SIlent tears had been running down his face nonstop until they walked into the studio, seeing that Hyunggu had closed things down, having left at 8pm like he was supposed to. Hyojong found some tissues for Wooseok, before beckoning him to follow him. They walked into the section that led to Hyojong’s penthouse and found themselves in the living room. “Here, I’ll make you a bed on my couch, it’s late.”

Wooseok bowed and mumbled a thank you as Hyojong went about finding some old blankets. He didn’t have a whole lot of extra blankets, as he didn’t like having more than he needed, but he found just enough to keep the kid warm overnight.

He walked over to hand Wooseok a pillow and he gestured as he spoke. “Bathroom there, kitchen there, I’ll be up there. If you get hungry, help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge and pantry. I think I have some fruit too,” he broke off into mumbling as he tried to remember his food stock.

“Thank you,” Wooseok interrupted and bowed again -  _ His parents should be proud of him _ , Hyojong thought.

As Hyojong walked up the stairs to go to bed, he heard Wooseok say in a quiet voice. “Yuto,” making Hyojong freeze in his tracks. He slowly turned around, halfway up the stairs. His body had gone cold all over and he looked to see Wooseok staring at him with big eyes.

“W-what did you say?” Hyojong asked.

Wooseok answered shakily, “That was his name...Adachi Yuto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I love you all <3


	7. 131

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, props to anyone who knows why this chapter (and the song) is called 131. hehehe  
> This chapter is long and there's a lot of time jumps, also there's some smut in the beginning segment, so if anyone wants to skip it, as soon as it starts, just move on past the horizontal line ^-^  
> You've all been so sweet and I'm so grateful for the love I've received through this fic

_ “That one’s Cepheus,” Adachi’s deep voice seemed to rumble inside of his chest and Wooseok closed his eyes as he leaned against his shoulder. He loved listening to Adachi talk, he could listen to him talk for hours, about anything really, whether he wanted to tell him about the constellations or about the food his mother used to make, or really just any subject. Wooseok would always listen. _

_ “That one’s the Big Dipper,” Wooseok announced proudly, gesturing vaguely. _

_ Adachi laughed, his laugh was a light bubbly kind of laugh that made Wooseok’s chest warm. “Everyone knows that one!” he shoved Wooseok’s shoulder gently. _

_ Wooseok rolled his eyes. “Well, whatever, I know that one.” _

_ “It’s not even out tonight,” Adachi murmured, a grin in his voice. _

_ “Hey, you wanna do something fun?” Wooseok asked suddenly. _

_ “Don’t change the subject!” Adachi giggled, but stood up with the younger anyways. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue and something fun was always on his list of what he wanted to do, if it was with Wooseok, he’d do anything. “What’d you have in mind?” _

_ Wooseok pulled out his ipod and hit shuffle, letting one of the slower songs play, he smiled up at Adachi, who wrinkled his nose a little bit. There were few things that Jung Wooseok really prided himself on and dancing was at the bottom of that list, he wasn’t a good dancer and he would never call himself a good dancer, but that wouldn’t stop him from doing it. _

_ He swayed his hips and reached out his hands. Adachi let out another small giggle and then took the taller boy’s hands. He let him move his body back and forth with him, his feet having trouble catching up with Wooseok’s as he started to whirl the other around. They were dancing way too fast for the melody of that song that was playing and it made Adachi laugh. Wooseok was always going too fast. _

_ That trait partially owed to how they met, Wooseok had been running down the hall and tripped over Adachi’s gym bag, sending baseballs and old shorts flying. Adachi had promptly freaked the hell out and immediately taken him to the nurse’s office, wondering why this kid - who had just face planted into the ground and bruised his browbone, lip and shoulder - was grinning at him like he was the best thing in the world. _

_ Adachi had insisted that he give Wooseok something as an apology and Wooseok had smiled shyly and said ‘Time’ and now they were where they are now. They almost spent more time with each other than they did apart, they went to the movies on weekends, or just stayed in Wooseok’s bedroom to watch anime. They read comics together at the library, they studied together and occasionally, they would lay out under the stars together. _

_ But this was the first time they’d done anything like this. Holding hands and spinning each other around till they got so dizzy that if they let go of each other, they’d probably go crashing to the ground, but neither had any plans of letting go. As the song came to an end, they slowed down but didn’t stop. Another slow song started up and this time Adachi took the lead, making sure that they danced to the tempo this time. It was slow and sweet and Wooseok didn’t have time to register what was happening until Adachi tugged him closer and they found themselves chest to chest. _

_ They were so close they could feel the other’s breath on their collarbones, there was a million sounds being generated through their ears to their heads right now, the sounds of the crickets in the middle of the field chirping, the music, the sound of heavy breathing, an occasional gulp and the continuous pounding of their own hearts. _

_ The song ended and neither noticed, they were still holding a gaze so intense, it could burn ants, even at night, no magnifying glass needed. Their bodies began to move as one and they swayed back and forth together, Adachi stepping forwards every now and then, only to yank Wooseok back, flush against him. Wooseok burned bright red every time. _

_ It became a sort of game, almost like a battle of dominance, they didn’t even realize they were playing until Adachi stepped back and tripped on a rock in the grass. They went crashing to the ground, Wooseok on top of Adachi, his hands coming up to shield the other’s head, cradling his head in his arms as they hit the grass. They stared at each other, their eyes searching the other’s, looking for something, anything. An answer, permission, a plea... _

_ They continued their game where they left off, but with more ferocity now, Adachi gnawing on Wooseok’s lip, his hands clutching the waist that was on top of his own. They had an unfinished game and as Wooseok’s body began to move and press closer to Adachi’s, the older felt heat shoot through him. He used the waist in his hands to his leverage and flipped Wooseok over, so that he was hovering above the younger, their noses pressed together. _

_ With their new position it was easier for Adachi to take control, unknowing that Wooseok had practically given it to him, begged him to take it. He wanted Adachi to control him, he wanted him to make him surrender and have him at his mercy. He didn’t just want it, he ached for it. _

_ As Adachi’s tongue probed the inside of Wooseok’s mouth, the younger whined into the cavern of Adachi’s mouth, drawing a starved groan from the older. He had him pinned down in every way, his hands were trapped under the other’s hands and his hips teased against Wooseok’s restrained arousal, a burning sensation was rising up in both of them. _

_ Wooseok may have been desperate for Adachi’s touch, but something in him was rebellious, he wasn’t ready to entirely succumb to the other’s desire, he wanted to provoke him, to tease him into taking what he wanted. He pressed his hips up into the other’s, feeling their clothed erections graze against each other, leaving them both short of breath. _

_ Something deep inside of them, that seemed to be waiting for this moment, snapped and whatever boundaries were in between them were broken, they were free. They rutted against each other, drawing moans and cries of pleasure from their mouths, Wooseok’s hands were gripping Adachi’s arms brutally, most likely leaving nasty bruises behind. _

_ They rubbed their pelvises together until the friction wasn’t enough for Adachi and he repositioned himself to slam his hips against Wooseok’s, earning a sinfully sweet moan from the younger. His head was starting to feel heady and he was afraid he was going to lose his mind if they kept going like this. _

_ His mouth scraped down Wooseok’s throat, feeling his pulse under his teeth and tongue, his own heart was racing and he could feel how he was affecting the younger. As he grinded against him, he could feel his length growing even bigger and hear his tiny whimpers of arousal. _

_ Their bodies worked in tandem, pushing and pulling and demanding the other to give in, feeling and hearing how close each other were to climaxing from their grinding alone. Wooseok was the first to tip over the edge, Adachi applying more pressure somehow, rubbing their erections together with more force than Wooseok would have thought him capable, making the younger writhe under him as his orgasm crashed over his body. _

_ Adachi followed, feeling the heat that had built up in his lower abdomen finally give way and feeling the wet warmth that was pooling in his trousers. He rested their foreheads together, their breaths mixing as they both panted and sighed, before kissing once more. _

* * *

_ “Wooseokkie!” Adachi called, coming up behind his boyfriend, slipping an arm around his shoulders. They had to be very careful with how they behaved around each other, they couldn’t let anyone catch on to the fact that they were dating, otherwise they would be expelled from school and shunned from every neighborhood in Seoul. _

_ Wooseok turned to grin at the Japanese boy, leaning into him very slightly. “What’s up?” _

_ “I have an audition tomorrow,” he announced, sounding very pleased with himself. Wooseok felt his heart stop for a second, Adachi seemed excited and he knew that he wanted this, but...the selfish part of him really didn’t want him to. He couldn’t lose Adachi. _

_ “Oh,” he nodded sadly, feeling his best friend stiffen next to him. _

_ “What?” Adachi asked, he could tell that Wooseok wasn’t pleased and his heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach. Why couldn’t Wooseok be happy for him? _

_ “I just...I won’t be able to see you, if you become a trainee,” he mumbled, pulling away, letting Adachi’s arm fall back down to his side. He watched his boyfriend’s expression darken and a sadness wash over him. _

_ Adachi huffed slightly, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. “I’d make time for you...” _

* * *

_ “You said you’d try!” _

_ “I made that promise before I knew what it was like! Y-you don’t know what it’s like!” _

_ “But you still promised me, Adachi! You promised and then you broke that promise!” _

_ “I have been trying...” _

_ “Bullshit, you haven’t called me in two whole weeks." _

_ “That’s not fair! Do you know how hard it is? I barely have time to sleep, let alone call someone!” Adachi’s voice raised slightly. _

_ “Someone?? Is that all I am now?” Wooseok’s voice cracked at the last word and he stopped to swallow, feeling the tears that threatened to break. He dropped to barely more than a whisper. “You’re not yourself anymore. It’s like they took your emotions as well as your time...” _

_ Adachi opened his mouth to protest again, but he immediately crumbled when he saw the tears building behind Wooseok’s eyes. He sighed and reached out to grab his boyfriend, tugging him into his arms, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry Wooseokkie, I’ve just...I haven’t been able to make many friends and I...I really miss you.” _

_ Wooseok felt the weight above his head press down on his shoulders and he leaned into Adachi’s embrace, feeling the way his hands unconsciously wrapped around him. He buried his head in his shoulder and clutched onto his shirt, his fingers digging into the cloth and he held on as tight as he could. He never wanted to let go. _

* * *

_ “Fuck, Seokkie, I’ve missed this,” Adachi gasped against Wooseok’s lips, his hands still buried in his boyfriend’s hair. He breathed in his scent and felt his chest clench and ache. “I’ve missed you.” _

_ Wooseok chuckled and nuzzled Adachi’s cheek, moving his legs to brace against the front seat a little better. Wooseok had borrowed Junhyung’s old car and driven to pick Adachi up, before parking in an abandoned parking lot on the far side of Seoul, where they had promptly moved to the back seat to make out. It was the most rebellious they had ever been and it made it all the more exciting. _

_ “I’ve missed you too,” he whispered. _

_ “You know...the company’s always looking for new trainees...” _

_ “No,” Wooseok started to pull away, only to have Adachi desperately grab onto his collar. _

_ “You’re a good rapper, Seokkie,” he urged, trying to scoot even further into his boyfriend’s lap, but they were pressed flush against each other and there was no more room. “And we’d get to see each other more often.” _

_ Wooseok sighed, he’d considered joining Adachi in training, but the idea of signing his life over to someone who only wanted money from him, was far from appealing. He had too much self respect - pride, Adachi had called it last time they fought about this. _

_ “Let’s not discuss this right now,” Wooseok sighed, leaning forwards to kiss him again. _

_ Adachi pulled away, just as Wooseok had and his hands dropped to his lap and he sat there, staring at them for a bit. He seemed dejected, which more than anything, pissed Wooseok off. _

_ “Fine,” he sniffed, moving his legs out from under Adachi’s. “I’ll drive you back to your precious company.” _

* * *

_ He knew he was being unfair, he knew he was being selfish and horrible, but he missed who his boyfriend used to be and he missed being able to hold him and kiss him and love him. He missed him so much he was angry. He didn’t want to see him, he didn’t want to talk to him, because he knew what he’d say. He’d ask Wooseok to wait for him, or to join the label, or he’d just talk about how hard it was. _

_ Wooseok grabbed the coffee he’d bought and he went back to his table, he stared at the empty chair across from him. They’d agreed on 4pm, they’d discussed it in full and Adachi had said that that was the only time he had free. The only time he could make for his boyfriend. _

_ Coffee in one hand and bag in the other, Wooseok stood up and left the coffee shop, pushing out into the cool air, feeling his heart sink. He hated himself for doing it, but he was sick of lying, sick of saying that he was fine, that he didn’t mind. He hated it and he wanted Adachi to know what he’d done, he wanted him to know how much it hurt to not have him. _

_ So he left... _

* * *

_ I miss you. _

_ We should talk. _

_ I’m waiting for... _

_ You aren’t being... _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ Wooseok had typed out each sentence and then erased it, feeling like it wasn’t the right way to phrase it. His heart was heavy and his throat was thick, he hadn’t talked to Adachi in well over a week, after he’d stood him up, Adachi had called him over and over and he didn’t answer. But now he was past those petty feelings and his heart just yearned for his boyfriend. _

_ He had trouble eating and couldn’t bring himself to do anything, Adachi was permanently in his thoughts and he couldn’t get him out. All he wanted was to see and touch and kiss and listen to him, just once and then he could go back to his training, he could go back to his fucking label and spend as much time there as he wanted. He could forget about Wooseok all over again and focus on his music. _

_ His hands started to shake and he almost dropped his phone, he hadn’t expected to be this affected by what he did, but every night he was filled with guilt and he wondered why he had done something like that. Why would he leave Adachi alone like that? He had imagined it in his mind so many times, Adachi after a long day of practice, having run out as quick as possible to get to the coffee shop to see Wooseok, only to find that he wasn’t there and that he wasn’t picking up his phone. _

_ He probably thought he hated him now... _

_ Tears threatened to spill as Wooseok fell back onto his bed, his chest filling with pain, why did he do that? Why, with all things, was he so destructive towards his relationship with Adachi? He had never hated himself more than he did now and he felt wet drops slide down his cheeks. Maybe Adachi was better off without him, maybe he would find another trainee to fall in love with, someone that he could see often. _

_ It was better this way probably, Wooseok thought. He got up off his bed, his phone buzzing as he stood, the creak of his bed masked the sound. He stretched slightly and left his bedroom, the illuminated screen going unnoticed. _

_ As Wooseok walked to the kitchen, looking for some beer or something that Junhyung wouldn’t miss too much, his phone buzzed twice more before falling silent. _

* * *

Hyojong’s couch was not comfortable, it was too short and too cushy, Wooseok’s back sank into it and his legs dangled off the edge. He made a mental note never to accept the couch of a short person, he should have just slept on the floor. It might have been more comfortable.

The living room was dark at first, but as his eyes adjusted, he felt like the room was suddenly filled with light from the window on the far wall. It was obnoxious and even when he closed his eyes, he was still aware of the light. When he tried to pull the blankets up to cover his face, it uncovered his feet and he felt the cold air swarm his socks and he groaned miserably.

Maybe after Hyojong fell asleep, he’d be able to get up and find a taxi home, where his big warm bed would be waiting. On the plus side, he knew that Junhyung wouldn’t be waiting up and wouldn’t be able to yell at him for being late. Not that he’d ever really raised his voice at Wooseok anyways.

He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for Hyojong to be asleep. Carefully, he slid the blanket off of his body and he rose to his feet, walking as quietly as he could to where his shoes were. He tugged them on, losing his balance and catching himself on the wall, the loud thunk ringing through the room, making him freeze. He held his breath, until he was satisfied by the lack of reaction. It was still silent.

As soon as his shoes were on, he grabbed his phone from the kitchen counter and his jacket from the chair, he opened the door, cringing at the beep that the security lock let out and he slipped out. He walked quietly to the back door of the Melody Pad and as soon as he was out into the cold night air, he started walking steadily down the street. His heart was heavy and a thick stone like feeling resided in the back of his throat.

His feet carried him down the city street, until he found a slightly busy corner. It was almost 3am, he noticed, looking at his phone. He sighed and managed to wave down a taxi. He climbed inside and opened his mouth to offer Junhyung’s address, but he hesitated. Instead, he requested the driver to take him to just outside of the city, to the old high school that was there.

It was a long drive, and Wooseok scrolled through his phone, opening his camera roll, which was full of old photos. He sighed and started deleting some, screenshots of conversations with Junhyung’s 8 year old, selfies of him pretending to be Gong Yoo that he’d sent to some friends when he went to Busan, some photos of pages of lyrics that he’d written and sent to Hyunggu for approval. His phone was full of memories. As he scrolled, he came across a selfie that made his blood run cold.

It was a selfie. Adachi’s and his own beaming faces, cheeks squished together, from when they’d pretended to be tourists in Myeong-dong, taking selfies at every attraction spot and trying all the street food they could find. His eyes stung and he blinked away tears, a blush rising as he glanced up at the driver, relieved to see that he wasn’t looking.

The taxi pulled up into the parking lot and the driver turned to look back at him, some suspicion in his eyes. “You good, kid?” he asked. His voice was gruff and he smelled of cinnamon gum and some kind of energy drink.

Wooseok nodded, staring out the window at the old school building. “Yeah,” he murmured, reaching into his pocket for some money. “Just left something at school earlier,” he lied, handing several old bills to the man.

After clambering out, he watched the car peel out of the parking lot, eager to get back to the city, where there would actually be some business. Wooseok turned back to stare up at the building, it didn’t look any different than it had when he was last here.

He walked around to the back of the building, his heart lurching when he saw the field behind the school. He crossed the grounds, his feet dragging through the grass, the night sky stretched before him as he walked. He could see the river in the distance, the tall grass field that it ran beside was just as he remembered.

As he approached the river, he reached out his hands to feel the long grass tickling the tips of his fingers. He let out an unsteady breath, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky, he could see stars twinkling in the distance. His ears started to ring as he walked closer to the water, a small spot in the grass was cleared.

With an unsure feeling in his chest, he laid down in the clearing, his eyes following along the patterns that the stars shaped out in the night, each one connected to something and he could imagine all sorts of different constellations. He looked at the empty area around him, the absence of company that surrounded him. He was alone here.

His eyes shut tight and he reached out a hand, stretched towards the sky. He imagined a warmth encompassing his hand, it was firm and warm and such a contrast to the cool air. It held onto his hand and squeezed it tight. He knew exactly what it was...who it was.

Similar scenes had played out in his mind’s eye so many times in the past, a warm hand grabbing onto his own, pulling him to his feet, into awaiting arms. He would hold onto the arms around him and they would dance, with or without music, they would dance in circles, spin each other around until they fell together into the long grass.

The warm feeling trickled down his hand, sliding over his arm until it hit his chest and wrapped around his heart, clutching it inside of his chest and squeezing it slightly. It pulled tears from his eyes and before he even realized it, tears were trickling down the side of his face, filling his ears. He gasped out softly and then opened his eyes, the night sky coming back into view.

His pale hand was in front of his face, empty, but still clutching a space as if it was holding onto someone. He felt the warmth disappear and all that was left was cold emptiness, a lonely feeling that tugged at his stomach.

He stared up at the stars, feeling a sense of being lost fill him, this was more than loneliness, this was...the feeling of being genuinely lost. Of looking for something and not finding it, of needing someone and not having them.

The tears that had begun a steady flow down his face were starting to make his skin itch and he sniffed, wiping at them with the back of his hand. He let his hand fall back to the grass, the spot next to him that was empty. His eyes were still searching the sky, his mind wandering.

He saw the constellation he was looking for and he sighed.

“Look,” he whispered to the empty night, his hand lifting once more to point. “That one’s Cepheus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed it <3  
> I promise more answers are coming soon, haha, just bear with me


	8. I miss you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this isn't an April Fools' joke lol
> 
> but hey, you've all been super great, so here's the next chapter! it's kind of all over the place

Hyunggu had been nagging Hyojong all day, asking him what was wrong as he brushed him off. Ever since that stupid name had left Wooseok’s mouth, he had a knot in his stomach, a feeling he couldn’t shake. The hairs on his arm and neck were raised and he couldn’t get rid of the creepy feeling that he was being watched, almost as if a ghost was following him and blowing on his skin. 

He tried to get some work done as he waited for his phone to buzz, or something, anything.

When he had gone to bed that night, he had lay awake, unable to sleep. A sick feeling washed over him and he thought at first that he was going to throw up, but it was just a lingering dizziness that washed over him. During the middle of the night, he listened to Wooseok get up and leave. He should have stopped him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He wasn’t sure how to face Wooseok, he didn’t know how to tell him that the death of his boyfriend was his fault. He didn’t know how to even look at him, let alone talk to him.

He’d woken up the next morning and sent a text to Wooseok’s mobile, asking if he got home okay, if he wasn’t going to be honest, the least he could do was be considerate. He had started on his work the next day, the pages upon pages of lyrics that he was holding just looked like a headache, the words swirling together and confusing him. He left them on his desk and went in search of some food, only to have Hyunggu start breathing down his neck, wanting to know what was wrong.

“Look, just go home,” Hyojong finally sighed, he was sure that Hyunggu had more important things to be doing. Didn’t he have a solo concert coming up that week? “I’ll clean up.”

And with that, he disappeared into one of the recording studios, beginning to wipe down the glass and setting the microphone onto the cart that he took with him, so he could clean it later. He walked to next recording room, checking the lobby to see if Hyunggu had left. His jacket was not on the chair like it was before, so he must have actually listened to Hyojong for once. Everything was weird today.

He went to grab the microphone off the stand, only to see that it was on. He frowned slightly and went to the control panel, where he ended the recording. Someone must have accidentally left it on, he sighed to himself and pulled out his phone. He sent a text to Hyunggu. 

_ -who used rec room 6 last? _

_ -hongseok  _

Hyojong sighed. Of course, the trainee would leave the mic on, probably overnight too. He went to the sound booth room and went to delete the 17 hour recording, but curiosity settled over him. When Hongseok had started coming to the Melody Pad, he wasn’t a great singer. Had he improved at all?

He knew he shouldn’t have, but Hyojong rewinded to the beginning of the recording and hit play. He expected to hear a voice, singing, but he didn’t. At first all he heard was muffled talking, was Hongseok trying to rap? It was too slow to be a rap, so he must just talk to himself. Hyojong smirked a little, that was cute to him, the idea of Hongseok talking to himself, no doubt trying to encourage himself or get himself hyped up.

But the more the recording went on, the more he realized that it was two different people, one voice was a little higher than the other and talked slower. He frowned and leaned in to listen closer. The muffled conversation ended and it was silent for awhile.

Hyojong reached out and turned the volume up a bit, ear straining to catch any other sounds that might have been recorded. He hadn’t heard the door, so whoever it was obviously hadn’t left, they were still there. All that could be heard was soft breathing. Right as he went to turn the volume up more, a sound came through the speakers and he froze.

It was a moan. One solid, full on moan and it wasn’t Hongseok’s. For half a second, Hyojong had a sick feeling that maybe it was Hyunggu, but he was sure that Hyunggu wouldn’t cheat on Shinwon and also that he would be smart enough to turn off the mic.

Another moan followed the first, this time a spoken word, it was Hongseok’s voice.

“ _ J-Jinho, _ ” and Hyojong almost choked on his tongue. He quickly stopped the recording and deleted it without a second thought. He couldn’t believe it, Hongseok and Jinho had fucked in the sound booth...and caught it on recording. A laugh burst out of Hyojong and he had to cover his mouth as he laughed.

It just seemed to ridiculous to him, he was so sure that they wouldn’t get along and yet, lo and behold, they were actually having sex at the Pad. It was funny to Hyojong, but his amusement only lasted just long enough for him to realize the amount of thorough cleaning he’d have to do in the recording room and he groaned inwardly. He was not looking forward to this.

* * *

He had spent an hour cleaning room 6 and he still wasn’t satisfied, he was paranoid that he was going to come across some horrific stain that would traumatize him for life. He decided he needed to take a break, so he scrubbed his arms in too hot water and went to the kitchen to look for a drink. As he was elbow deep in the liquor cabinet, he heard the door and carefully closed the door to go check who was there.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Standing there, looking like a horrible mess, honestly, was Hwitaek. He was wearing his usual ripped jeans and a pink graphic tee that had some flowers and said ‘equality’ in small print, he was wearing a denim jacket on top of his t-shirt and his shoes had massive platforms, giving him that extra few centimeters that he wanted. He looked so huggable and beautiful and Hyojong felt a bit of a tug towards him as he walked closer.

“Hey,” Hwitaek murmured, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and looked at Hyojong with widened eyes.

Hyojong sighed, lowering his head for a moment before looking back up at Hwitaek. “Hey,” he replied.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

Hyojong simply shook his head.

When the older’s face fell and he nodded a bit, Hyojong reached out to brush his arm. “Wait, I just...I meant no you can’t buy me one, but I can give you one. I don’t see why you should spend money on alcohol, when I have some in the kitchen,” he explained.

Hwitaek’s expression lightened and he followed Hyojong into the kitchen, looking around with an admiring look, before taking a seat at the counter in the center. He spun around on the swivel stool for a bit, then settled down as Hyojong brought over some glasses. He smirked at him and poured him some soju.

They sipped their drinks in silence for a bit, Hwitaek making a face for a second, before draining the rest of his glass into his mouth. Hyojong remembered a little too late that he preferred English alcohol and wasn’t a fan of soju.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I might have some whiskey.”

Hwitaek shook his head and grinned. “No, it’s okay,” he chuckled. “You’re sweet, though.”

A blush rose on Hyojong’s face and he stared down into his glass, before drinking the rest of it. “We should talk,” he muttered after swallowing. “I...haven’t forgiven myself, for anything.”

“I noticed.”

Their voices were small and quiet and broken and when Hyojong went to pour them another glass each, he heard Hwitaek’s voice continue. “But I have. I forgave you a long time ago. And I’m sorry...I should’ve reached out to you, or something, but I was so scared.”

“Of me?” Hyojong’s voice was laced with pain.

“No! God, no! Of...well, of me. I’ve never been very good at relationships and there’s always been...something about you. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t control myself around you. You’re,” he hesitated, licking his lips again and chuckling a little bit. “You’re intoxicating. I lose myself whenever I’m with you.”

Hyojong’s heart was pounding in his chest and he went to take a drink, but Hwitaek stopped him.

“Please don’t just drink. Please talk to me, Hyojong. I-I want to talk this out.”

He sounded so desperate, it made Hyojong’s heart lurch and he turned to look at him. “I miss you,” he said quietly. “I just...I don’t know if I’m good for you.”

“Don’t say that, I hate that you said that just now,” his brows furrowed.

“It’s the truth!”

Hwitaek was shaking his head and his hands came up to cup Hyojong’s cheeks in his hands. “Listen...” his breath was shaky. “I have never been good to you. I was always so quick to blame you for things and I didn’t stand up for you, I didn’t...I wasn’t by your side, when you needed me most. And for that I am so sorry, but don’t you ever blame yourself for that. What happened to Yuto was horrible, it really was, but it was an accident, Hyojong.”

The rapper tried to pull out of the hands around his face, but Hwitaek held him still. “It was an accident,” he whispered again.

Meeting Hwitaek’s eyes was painful, but when Hyojong did, he found them full of love. He missed being looked at like that, he missed being held like this, he missed being loved. He felt a swell of emotions inside of him and he had to bite his lip to keep it from trembling.

“I miss you,” Hwitaek finally whispered, leaning forwards to press a gently kiss to Hyojong’s eyelashes. “God, I miss you.”

Hyojong held still as he kissed his eyes, then his forehead, then his nose and before he could pull away, Hyojong moved forwards and kissed his lips. It wasn’t a rushed, hungry kiss like their last one had been. It was slow and tasted like soju and tears - which were now steadily flowing down Hyojong’s cheeks - and it was warm and everything that Hyojong had been waiting for.

The kiss only lasted as long as Hyojong could hold his breath and he pulled away to sniffle, hoping he hadn’t smeared too much snot on Hwitaek’s cheek. He was quickly becoming a mess and he wanted to run and hide his emotional state, but the one person he felt he didn’t have to hide from anymore was the only person here, so he didn’t get up from his seat.

“Maybe you should wipe your nose,” Hwitaek whispered sweetly, brushing a hand over Hyojong’s cheek, before reaching for the role of paper towels that hung from a nearby cabinet. He handed one to Hyojong and gave him a warm smile as he cleaned up his tears.

“Let’s move to my house,” Hyojong said, getting up from the stool. He walked Hwitaek to the door and opened it, letting him inside of his penthouse.

Hwitaek’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, nice place,” he nodded approvingly.

With a smirk, Hyojong walked to the fridge. “Since you don’t like soju, how about a beer?”

“Sure, a beer works.”

They curled up on the couch, beers in hand and they just...stared at each other for a few moments. It was unsure what they were looking for in the other, but Hwitaek seemed to find it first and he smirked, taking a drink from his beer.

“I’ve started training his ex-boyfriend,” Hyojong sighed.

“What?”

“Yuto’s ex-boyfriend. He’s a friend of Hyunggu’s and they came to me, wanting me to train the kid.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah...I didn’t even know he knew him till last night. I don’t know if I can continue with him. It’s a shame...he’s a good kid and a damn good rapper. You don’t get many of those.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Hyojong could hear what Hwitaek wasn’t saying and he looked over at him. “I shouldn’t give up on him, should I?”

“Of course you shouldn’t,” Hwitaek almost sounded amused and Hyojong sighed, reaching out his arms for him.

“How did I survive without you?”

Hwitaek curled into the outstretched arms and lay into Hyojong’s lap, his hand falling onto his leg and absentmindedly drawing little circles on his leg as they lay there, staring at nothing.

At some point they stopped talking and just laid there, holding onto each other for dear life, it wasn’t long before Hwitaek drifted to sleep and Hyojong buried his nose in the top of his head, the scent of his shampoo lulling him into a slumber as well.

* * *

Hyojong woke to his phone ringing and he noticed that Hwitaek was still laying on his chest. He reached between them to grab it from his pocket, his elbow bumping into the man in his lap. Hwitaek grumbled sleepily and started to wake up.

“Sorry, sorry. I just want to check this,” he whispered, pulling his phone out and answering the call. “Hello?”

“Hyojong? It’s Changgu. I can’t believe you never changed your number!”

He grimaced. “Yeah, crazy, right? What’s up?”

“Well, after we ran into each other, I ended up mentioning you to some guys at the label. They didn’t know you were still in the country, let alone the area and they were wondering if we could maybe meet up.”

His eyes went to Hwitaek, who had sat up and was rubbing his eyes. “Uhm, maybe. When?”

“How about tonight?” Changgu’s voice got louder the more excited he was and Hyojong knew that Hwitaek could hear every word he was saying.

“Uh...” he was still looking at Hwitaek, who looked back at him and nodded, to show that he didn’t mind. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Awesome! I think they’ve got something they wanted to talk to you about.”

The way Changgu phrased it seemed as if there was more to what he was saying, but Hyojong just murmured an “ok” and hung up. He slowly climbed off the couch, looking back at Hwitaek, who was leaning back, blinking blearily and rubbing at his eyes. Hyojong couldn’t help but smirk, he was so cute.

He climbed the stairs to his room, where he changed into a clean sweater, he found his good shoes and applied some deodorant before going back down the stairs. Hwitaek was stretching and looking around, a lost expression on his face.

“Bathroom’s over there,” Hyojong smirked. “Stay as long as you like, I’m gonna go. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

“Okay,” Hwitaek nodded. “Thanks...”

He carefully walked closer and pulled Hyojong into another kiss, his lips were warm and firm against his own and their mouths moved together softly. When they pulled away, Hyojong had his eyes closed, savoring the moment. He sighed lightly. “Bye,” he whispered.

Hwitaek kissed him once more before bidding goodbye and watching him go, a little sadly.

* * *

“No fucking way,” Hyojong scoffed, leaning back in his seat.

Hyunseung leaned forwards, elbows on the table. “Why not? It’d be great!”

Hyojong shook his head, adamant. “No, I’m not coming back. I don’t want to sign again.”

“Hyojong, come on. We miss you,” someone else chimed in, but he was already pushing his chair back.

“I’m sorry, but no. I don’t care how bad you need a rapper, you need to find someone else,” he took one last drink of water and his phone and went to walk away.

Changgu spoke up now. “We’re desperate, Hyojong! We’ll take anything!”

He paused. Slowly, he turned around. “Anything?”

“Yes!” many of them chimed in simultaneously.  
  
He sighed and hesitated. He didn’t really want to just give up his pupil, but maybe...just maybe the sooner he debuted, the better. “I might have a kid...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! I hope you liked it ^-^


	9. The truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is pretty late >.< I'm sorry  
> I was supposed to update earlier, but here you go. Hopefully I will have the next chapter up sooner!!  
> You've all been so lovely btw, thank you.

He had called and called and called Wooseok, but the kid didn’t pick up. He didn’t even text. Hyojong was starting to get worried, he had a niggling feeling in the bottom of his stomach that screamed that something was wrong. He brushed it aside as paranoia, after losing Yuto, it was too easy to make him worry.

His hands fidgeted with his phone all day long, it’d been two days and he didn’t hear anything, he was sat in his office staring at his computer, wondering where he went so wrong as to fuck up with another trainee. The only good thing was that Hwitaek was with him the entire time, after he started to show signs of concern, Hwitaek had insisted on staying, saying that he wasn’t going to leave Hyojong alone again.

“Knowing you, you’d probably not eat anything and end up deleting a few songs,” Hwitaek had said, while scrubbing the window of a sound booth. He’d even helped with chores, saying that work would help Hyojong get his mind off things.

“It’s been 24 hours and I haven’t heard anything, should I call the police?” Hyojong murmured.

Hwitaek’s hands felt firm and comforting on Hyojong’s back, rubbing circles into the tight muscle there with his thumbs. “Maybe he’s with his parents, you don’t know where he lives,” he made a little huffing sound and leaned on Hyojong’s shoulder. “Did you call Hyunggu?”

Hyojong shook his head. “He left for a solo concert in China first thing this morning, took Shinwon with him. They’re probably still on the plane,” he sighed, letting his head drop into his hands.

“Well, you’re not gonna sit here feeling miserable,” Hwitaek announced. He hooked his hands under Hyojong’s arms and pulled him - a little too easily - to his feet. He dusted off his butt. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

He was practically dragged outside, phone in hand. The weather was getting warmer, finally, the worst of the winter was gone and spring was just around the corner. But with the way things were going, Hyojong wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

A sleek black SVU type car was parked at the side of the street just in front of the Melody Pad and Hwitaek pulled Hyojong over to it, he motioned for him to get in and then went around to the other side and climbed into the driver’s seat. There was something about watching him drive, with his black pullover with the sleeves rolled up, his shredded white jeans, his tan thighs peeking through the holes. He had his usual gold hoops in his ears and his hair was styled down, hanging loose and soft over his eyes. Hyojong swallowed thickly, it was a good thing he wasn’t driving, because he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off Hwitaek long enough to focus on the road.

Maybe he’d be able to find an ample distraction to keep him from worrying too much, but at the same time, his stomach was in knots and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to shake the uneasy feeling that was creeping below the surface of his skin. The drive was long enough for Hyojong to almost fall asleep, but when Hwitaek reached over to brush his hand over his knee, he nearly jolted awake. His eyes followed Hwitaek’s hand and up to his face. He was stone faced, watching the road, his jaw was set firmly.

Hyojong opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but his phone started ringing and he jerked to attention. He lifted the screen to eye level and saw that the incoming call was from Wooseok. His initial instinct was to answer, but he hesitated, the sickening feeling washing over him again and he paused. What would he say? How...how would he be able to talk to him?

Hwitaek was watching him and then gave his knee a squeeze. “You should answer that,” he said calmly.

Sliding his thumb over the green phone icon, Hyojong lifted the phone to his ear. He drew in a shaky breath at the sound of Wooseok’s voice.

“Sorry hyung, I had a fever and left my phone off. I hope you weren’t too worried,” his voice was husky and sounded thick. A small cough followed.

“It-it’s okay,” Hyojong sighed. A guilty feeling was welling up inside of him, he wasn’t sure why Wooseok had run out that night, but something in him was sure that it was his fault. Maybe he’d made the kid feel uncomfortable for some reason, maybe Yuto had mentioned him and Wooseok suddenly remembered it. A part of him was scared of even talking to Wooseok, but he swallowed and focused on the reassuring firmness of Hwitaek’s hand on his knee. He soldiered on. “So...are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I...fell asleep in a field,” he explained, sounding like a kicked puppy. “Junhyung picked me up though, so I’m alright.”

Hyojong nodded, then remembered he was on the phone and mentally facepalmed. “Hey, we should talk. I...I need to tell you something. A few things, actually.”

There was one thing that Hyojong had never been good at, and that was being nervous. He had spent so long perfecting a mute confidence that glazed over his features and made him seem so much bigger than he actually was. But looking at him now, Hwitaek thought he looked so impossibly small, he had never seen that look of guilt and pain on Hyojong’s face and he wanted to pull the car over and hug him right then and there.

When Hyojong hung up after arranging to meet Wooseok tomorrow at their usual coffee shop, Hwitaek squeezed his knee yet again. “Hey,” he drew his ex-boyfriend-might-be-boyfriend-again-soon’s attention and gave him a pleasant smile. “You’re doing the right thing. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Hyojong didn’t seem to buy it, but he nodded anyways and turned his head to stare out the window. He looked thoroughly miserable and almost scared, it made Hwitaek’s stomach clench in a tight painful way, he wanted to hit something or someone for making Hyojong look like that.

He turned the car into a parking lot of a small restaurant, he parked the car on the far side of the lot and turned off the ignition. As he tucked the keys into his back pants pocket, he turned to look at Hyojong, who had his hands in his lap and was staring at them as if he was scared they’d burn him if he moved.

“Hyojong-ah,” Hwitaek reached out to grab his hand, feeling the way the younger jumped under his touch. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice was soft and helped to pull Hyojong out of his daze.

“Oh, yeah...”

They walked into the restaurant, purposely not holding hands, but feeling their fingers twitch, eager to latch onto the other’s. They were seated at a table near the center of the room and they scanned through the menu’s, eyes bobbing up and down through the entrees and side dishes and occasionally glancing up to meet each other’s gaze.

The waitress cleared her throat as she approached and gave them a polite look of impatience, they set their menus down and Hwitaek gave Hyojong a little smile and he waved for him to order first. Hyojong took one last glance at the list of food items and then decided on the sweet and spicy shrimp. “I’ll have the kkanpung saeu and the kimchi fried rice, please.”

Hwitaek nodded approvingly and then collected both of their menus, handing them to the waitress. “I’d like the bossam and the cucumber kimchi, please.”  
  
As soon as the waitress had disappeared, Hyojong reached across the table and rubbed his knuckles against the back of Hwitaek’s hand, making the older chuckle a little. “You never used to be this romantic,” he grinned.

“And you never used to eat this expensive,” Hyojong raised his eyebrows, teasingly.

“That was before I gave up on my diets. Besides, I know you like my thighs a little thick,” he actually giggled and it made Hyojong’s heart do a little flip. Also...he wasn’t wrong, he really did like his thighs thick.

They kept their conversation light hearted as they waited for their food, Hyojong made Hwitaek tell him everything that he’d missed out on during the year that they were apart. Apparently he had left his group and started being a vocal coach while featuring in other artist’s songs whenever the opportunity arose. They discussed the making and opening of the Melody Pad, Hwitaek seemed to be very interested in it, much to Hyojong’s surprise, he didn’t think it was anything impressive, but he was definitely fond of it.

When the waitress brought their food, they ate in silence. Words were not needed to have dinner and the food was too good to not eat all at once, so the conversation was put on hold as they chewed, each making their own sounds of approval. It had been a long time since Hyojong had eaten something so delicious and he hummed happily. Hwitaek made a delighted near squeal as he ate his bossam and he insisted that Hyojong try some.

Hyojong cut a piece off of the spiced pork belly wrap and took a bite and it was like his mind was blown, the flavors were so rich and he had to take a moment of holding it in his mouth just to savor the flavor, before chewing and swallowing.

“Y’know,” Hwitaek started, staring down at his now half empty plate, his chopsticks drawing little circles in the juice from the oyster shrimp. “The other day, when you...when Hyunggu walked in on us. You, uh...you said something. Do you remember what it was?”

Hyojong nodded, his own voice ringing through his head like a ghost.  _ Isn’t that what I deserve? _ The bitter anger and lack of control in them was a painful reminder of his outburst and the effect it had had on Hwitaek. He remembered the lost look of hurt that had flashed on his features and he felt his heart tighten, he was almost worried about what Hwitaek was going to say next.

“Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, really. To be honest, you scared the shit out of me. I was in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, convinced that you’d do something horrible to yourself,” he took in a shaky breath, before continuing. “I was worried sick. J-just promise me that no matter how horrible you feel, no matter how much I’ve hurt you...you won’t hurt yourself. That’s what matters most to me, your safety.”

His speech started steady and sure, but the more he talked, his voice got quieter and on his last sentence, he was slightly quivering and his voice slightly cracked. Hyojong felt the overwhelming guilt that seemed to be plaguing him recently, it was his fault, Hwitaek was scared, because of something he did.

“I promise,” he reached out to grab onto Hwitaek’s. “Hey,” he managed to draw the other’s eyes up to meet his. “I promise.”

Hwitaek’s eyes scanned his for a moment, looking lost and desperate and it made Hyojong grip his hand tighter, trying to hold onto him, holding him still, keeping him where he was, anything. They stayed like this for a minute, before Hwitaek glanced around the restaurant and cleared his throat, pretending to become reinterested in his food, but not actually eating any more.

As soon as they had both had their fill, they pushed their plates away and got up, Hwitaek making his way towards the desk to pay, Hyojong right behind him. They walked out of the restaurant, hesitant to even touch each other until they were safely in the car, where Hyojong literally rushed to grab onto Hwitaek.

They sat in the car for a moment, no words being exchanged, their hands clutching each other’s, holding onto the other. There wasn’t a force in the universe that could pull them apart. Their hearts were beating together and the only sound was their breathing. Until Hwitaek started the car and held the wheel with one hand, the other still holding onto Hyojong’s.

The night sky slid past in a blur as they drove down the highway, Hyojong’s breath fogging up the glass in front of him as he rested his head against the window, a little sigh escaping his lips. Everything from the past several weeks was starting to crash over his head and an incredible weight was settling on him, his head slowly dropping into his hand and before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep to the sound of Hwitaek humming along to the radio.

* * *

Hyojong woke up to the sound of soft voices and he slowly opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the ceiling, the layer of dust that coated it wasn’t a welcoming sight. Realizing he was on his couch, he sat up with a light groan, noticing that the voices stopped at his sound.

“Hyojongie, you’re awake?” Hwitaek’s bright smile came into view and he nodded a bit, squinting to see Wooseok behind him, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Seeing his face, Hyojong suddenly felt sick. He wasn’t ready to face him, not yet, he wouldn’t be able to. He swallowed and looked down at his hands, knowing that he wouldn’t even be able to meet his eyes, let alone say a single word.

Before he knew it, Hwitaek was squeezing onto the couch with him, nudging him over with his knee. He reached out to take Hyojong’s hand, but was rejected as the younger snatched his hand away. He was starting to feel dizzy and he had that horrific panicked feeling inside of him, it didn’t help that his thoughts were swirling

_ Hwitaek set you up, he’s trying to get back at you. Wooseok’s going to hate you, he’ll never be able to forgive you. _

“Hyung?” Wooseok’s voice broke his thoughts and Hyojong ducked his head slightly, acknowledging the kid but not responding. “Uh, you said you wanted to talk to me. I know we agreed on tomorrow, but uhm, well I thought I left something here and then Hwitaek-sshi pulled up and I thought we might as well just do it now.”

Hyojong shook his head, feeling his throat tightening, he wouldn’t be able to talk to him now, there was no way. He opened his mouth to voice these concerns, but a warm hand closed around his knee and he suddenly felt breath against his ear.

“It’s okay. Lemme help you,” Hwitaek’s voice was soft and reassuring and he felt the fear and paranoia start to lessen. Maybe Hwitaek would be more of a blessing in this scenario.

“Okay, I...don’t know where to start,” Hyojong mumbled.

Hwitaek took a deep breath. “You might want to sit down, Wooseok-ah.”

* * *

Wooseok’s head was in his hands, he was tugging at his dark hair with his long fingers, shaky breaths leaving him in bursts. He hadn’t spoken after Hyojong’s finished his confession, it had taken awhile, Hyojong kept stopping, wanting to end it right there, but Hwitaek persisted and encouraged him to finish. After all, it would be cruel to Wooseok to stop halfway.

The silence that hung in the room afterwards was slightly painful and the only sounds were tiny sniffles from Hyojong, deep breaths from Wooseok and the sound of Hwitaek’s hand moving up and down Hyojong’s leg, stopping every few minutes to give a little squeeze.

“You can’t blame yourself,” Wooseok suddenly announced, not raising his head.

Hyojong let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and a few tears started to flow a little more fluidly down his face. “If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have stepped in-”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that he stepped in front of the car!” Wooseok’s voice rose to a volume that Hyojong had never heard from him before. His eyes were aflame and Hyojong almost cowered in front of him. “Adachi would never have done that.”

The idea of arguing wasn’t a good one, in fact it would have been best to avoid conflict altogether, but Hyojong just couldn’t leave well enough alone. “You didn’t see him that night.”

Hwitaek immediately tensed, they all knew that this wasn’t going to end well.

The giant kid sitting across from them seemed to clench his entire face, but mostly his jaw and when he spoke next, his voice was dangerously low and his words were chosen very carefully. “You hardly knew him at all, how the fuck is it okay for you to pretend like you could read him?”

That was a heavy blow. But he was right, damnit. Hyojong didn’t know Yuto well, he’d spent the better part of the past three years mourning and allowing some kid he didn’t even know, to dictate his life and his choices. He let a stranger destroy the only good relationship he’d ever had, he allowed him to destroy his career. And with all due respect to the dead, it was stupid of Hyojong to let him control his life like that.

He sucked in a deep breath and nodded, feeling the knot that was in his chest start to loosen some. “You’re right...” after another breath, he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Wooseok sighed. There wasn’t really any appropriate words that could be said right now, the whole situation was awkward and Hyojong had dragged this out for way too long. The kid stood up and both of the other men in the room expected him to walk out right then, but he didn’t. Instead, he approached Hyojong and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hyung,” he said softly, drawing the other rapper’s attention. “It’s okay,” he knelt down in front of him. “Something you might not have known about Adachi...he was really quick to forgive. He wouldn’t want you to feel like this. He had...” Wooseok paused, tears welling up in his eyes and his voice tightening. “He had a lot of love, for everyone. He wouldn’t want you to suffer like this...and he never would have killed himself. He wouldn’t have...”

The tears had become too much and Wooseok stopped, rubbing a hand over his face as he cried. Hwitaek reached out and gently rested his hand on his shoulder.  
  
“He wouldn’t have left you alone,” Hwitaek whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go, everyone's on their way to being happier, or are they...? *waggles eyebrows suspiciously*  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it <3


	10. Relearning Hwitaek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great response to this, you guys! We're on the penultimate chapter now, yay!!  
> It's Johanna's birthday, so I'm posting this early hehe
> 
> //warning//  
> the end is just smut, it should be obvious when it starts

Feeling decidedly less haunted, Hyojong was starting to fall into a more regular work schedule. He was able to work with Wooseok and not be constantly on edge, Yuto’s supposed ghost had apparently settled into his final rest. He was at peace.

And so was Hyojong, he had already finished the song that was bothering him and he’d helped Wooseok start working on a melody for his own song, which he would then present to the label as a demo. Wooseok had admitted that he didn’t want to join the label because Hyojong suggested and that he wanted to get in based off of his own talents.

“But I can get you in really easy!”

“That’s not fair to others. I...I have to work just as hard as everyone else has.”

_ How frustratingly stoic of him _ , Hyojong thought. Sometimes the two rappers drove each other up a wall, but that was when they took a break and went to drink a beer on Hyojong’s couch. They needed to stop being musical artists sometimes and just focus on being friends.

As the weeks flew past and Wooseok became irreplaceable in Hyojong’s studio, the days without him felt empty, Hyojong realized with that familiar greed that he didn’t want to give Wooseok to the label. But it wasn’t up to him, it was the kid’s choice.

They were going through some of the files that Hyojong had saved on his computer, when Wooseok pointed one out. “What’s that?” he asked, frowning.

Hyojong looked to where he was pointing and felt his neck go cold. Wooseok was pointing to the same file that had been bothering Hyojong for awhile,  _ 131 _ . The numbers sometimes floated around in his head and made him mentally itch, an uncomfortable sensation that you just couldn’t scratch.

“Oh, that? It’s one of Yuto’s old files,” he murmured, trying to move on, but Wooseok was staring at it so desperately. He sighed. “Do you wanna see?”

Wooseok nodded, a slight pout starting to form on his lips. Hyojong clicked on it and then shifted, looking away from the kid as the song started. When Yuto’s voice came through the speakers, Wooseok let out a low sound in his throat, somewhere between a whine and a sigh and he leaned his head into his hand, placing his elbow on the desk.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, as if he was losing himself in his past lover’s voice. He seemed utterly at peace, his body slowly swaying with the melody of the song and his thick eyelashes were wet now. Hyojong watched him in mute fascination, he wondered how long it’d been since Wooseok had heard his voice, he looked almost sentimental as he listened, but there was more to his expression than just that.

Whenever Hyojong heard Hwitaek sing, he would sort of become dazed and fall into a hole of just him and Hwitaek’s voice. But he’d never realized that some people got like that because of rapping, not because of the mesmerizing rhythm or anything, just because it’s the voice of someone you loved.

The lyrics of the song were strong and Hyojong felt himself get distracted by them once more, suddenly feeling like someone had kicked him in the stomach.  _ Of course, why didn’t I realize it before? _ He mentally scolded himself.

_ I held your hand as we danced under a blanket of dark _

_ At some point during all of this, there was a spark _

_ You with the stars in your eyes, only talked about the ones in the sky _

_ Maybe if we’re lucky, this love will never die _

_ So let’s hold onto each other, don’t let go _

_ Cause baby you’re a light and I can’t stand the way you glow _

_ Your touch, your skin, your lips, I’ve started to miss _

_ The way you used to look at me, please just one more kiss _

_ I can’t stop the way I feel, I know it’s supposed to be wrong _

_ But you make me feel alive, just how long _

_ Come back to me _

The story that Wooseok had told him at the restaurant, of dancing with his boyfriend in the field at night, he was sure that he had heard it before, but it only just now occurred to him that he had heard it straight from the mouth of said boyfriend. He sighed softly and as the song came to an end, he looked at Wooseok. Tears were glistening in the young rapper’s eyes, but he looked otherwise happy.

“Thank you,” he whispered in a weak voice.

“He wrote these for you, didn’t he?” Hyojong asked quietly.

Wooseok shook his head, a small laugh leaving him now as he wiped his tears on the back of his hand. “No. I wrote these for him. I gave them to him and he promised to make me a song out of them,” he sniffled.

“They’re good,” Hyojong mumbled, unsure what else there was to say at this point.

“Thanks,” Wooseok smirked. “He was such a sap, he even made the name my birthdate.”

Hyojong couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on his lips. As sappy as it really was, it was kinda fucking cute and Hyojong had to hand it to Adachi Yuto, he must have been pretty great to Wooseok. He felt his heart lurch slightly, so he stood up and pushed his chair back. 

“Hey, let’s take a break,” he decided aloud. “Lunch sound good?”

Wooseok just nodded.

* * *

As they ate their jjajangmyun, they stared out the window of the noodle shop, the sun was bright and reflected off of every surface available, they couldn’t even look at the parked cars in the street without squinting. However the sun was deceitful and it was slightly chilly with a brisk wind, making it even colder. Despite the cold though, they were both in good moods and ate happily.

Hyojong’s phone rang and he paused to wipe his mouth before answering. It was Hwitaek. “Hey,” he started, there was obviously more though and he didn’t wait for Hyojong to answer before charging forwards. “It’s been over a week since I last saw you and I really miss you, so I’m making dinner at my place and if you want to come eat with me, you’re more than welcome, but just be warned that upon entering, you might not be allowed to leave.”

He chuckled and said. “Okay,” before hanging up, leaving his almost-boyfriend probably flustered. Wooseok smirked, having overheard their conversation and he went back to eating. 

When they were done, Hyojong paid and they got started on the walk back, it was a few blocks away from the Pad, which was enough to help them unwind after working all morning, but now with full bellies, it was sort of a miserable trip.

Hyojong felt himself gravitate closer to Wooseok and he nudged him slightly, sliding in under his arm as Wooseok laughed and shared the warmth of his coat. He allowed Hyojong to tuck himself in as close as he needed to to get warm, happy to keep his hyung from freezing.

“Hey Wooseokkie,” Hyojong mused.

“Yes, hyung?”

“Do you actually want to join the label?”

“I mean,” he hesitated. “I guess so.

Hyojong frowned up at him. “You guess so?”

“I’d like to be able to produce music, but I don’t know if I want the kind of pressure that the label would give me. I heard a lot about that from Adachi when he was a trainee...it didn’t sound pleasant,” Wooseok’s face fell, as if sad now that he remembered the hardships that his boyfriend had faced during the months leading up to his passing.

He wasn’t really eager to talk about Yuto again, he had been the unspoken center of every conversation they’d had for the past few weeks and while it wasn’t that he was sick of hearing about him, he just didn’t want Wooseok to cry again. It was cold and the wind would freeze his wet cheeks.

“Well, you know you don’t have to join if you don’t want to,” he paused for a moment, wondering what better way there was to phrase his thoughts. “What I mean is...you can always come work with me. I can help you produce your music. If you want to, of course. I understand if you don’t.”

Wooseok looked down at him, chewing on his lip. “I’ll think about it,” his words were heavy, suggesting that he’d already began thinking.

When they got back to the studio, they rushed inside, shaking off the cold remaining in their clothes and clinging to their skin. It was time to get back to work, but first Hyojong double checked that Jinho was alright in his booth and then texted Hyunggu to make sure that his trip in Japan was going well. Apparently his one concert turned into two, which turned into three, which was now a mini tour in Asia. He and Shinwon had been all over the place, China, Singapore and now Japan. Next was Thailand, Hyojong was pretty sure.

He settled back into his office, sliding up the second chair for Wooseok to sit at. They went over some notes that Hyojong had written up awhile ago, they were outdated, but the principle still stood. His tactics in making music had changed a bit, but the techniques still worked in the same way and Wooseok would be able to learn well from them.

As they poured over hundreds of sounds, trying out different melodies and notes with each verse, Hyojong felt Wooseok’s eyes on him more than once that evening and by the time the sun was going down, Wooseok seemed to be out of his body, his mind was elsewhere. Not wanting to seem impatient, Hyojong waited a few seconds before shaking him gently.

“Wooseok, do you want to continue?” he asked, pointing at the screen.

The younger nodded and then leaned forward. “Hyung?” he stopped to lick his lips before finishing his question. “Would it be okay if I stayed with you?”

Hyojong felt a bit of hopefulness in him and he turned to look at the other. “You mean, you don’t want to join the label?”

Wooseok nodded and then looked sheepish. “Also, I don’t want to live with Junhyung anymore...it’s too long of a trip to be honest. And he’s got his own family, I feel intrusive...”

Oh, he meant to live with Hyojong...that wouldn’t be too difficult, would it?

“I wouldn’t stay for long. Just...long enough for me to save up and buy my own place, here in Seoul.”

There were lots of things to consider, lots of ifs, ands and buts, Hyojong should’ve told him maybe, told him he needed time to think. He should’ve said ‘not yet’, or ‘don’t you have someone else?’ but instead he simply answered, “Sure.”

* * *

Dinner at Hwitaek’s wasn’t as thrilling as Hyojong had hoped for, well, it was, just in a different way. He had been hoping that he’d walk into romantic lighting and Hwitaek wearing a silk red button up with some tight dark grey slacks. That was ideal. He kept that image in his mind the entire way over, so much so that by the time he’d arrived, he was a little hard.

But when the door opened, he was faced with the exact opposite.

Hwitaek was actually wearing pajamas, a soft cotton t-shirt and baggy sleep pants, his barefeet barely poking out from under the pant legs. He had a flushed expression, his hair was messy and he looked embarrassed. He wrung his hands together, before gesturing towards the kitchen and mumbling.

“What?” Hyojong asked.

“I got halfway through making dinner, but when I tried the broth,” he sighed. “It’s so fucking gross, Hyojong, there’s no way we can eat this. I didn’t even have time to get dressed and it’s so...my whole day has been a disaster, to be honest.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Hyojong just nodded. “Alright. I’ll run to the corner store and get ramen and triangle kimbap.”

Hwitaek looked horrified for a second, before glancing back at his kitchen. “Lemme get some shoes and I’ll come with you.”

Once dressed in a long puffer jacket and some slip on loafers, they set off down the street, Hwitaek grumbling about a ruined night and Hyojong laughed again. “It’s not ruined, don’t worry. We’ll make it good, I promise.”

They reached the convenience store and Hwitaek trudged in, hiding his face from the worker out of instinct and he went in search of cup ramen. He found some shin ramyeon black and grabbed four cups, turning to search for a few bags of dried squid. Hyojong followed him with a fond smirk on his face. He was enjoying this, relearning Hwitaek.

He was relearning the faces he made when he was thinking, he was relearning the little frustrated sounds he made when he was mad at himself, he was relearning the way his eyes crinkled as he found the dried squid he liked, he was relearning the way his feet flopped on the sidewalk as he tried not to trip on his too long sleep pants.

He was relearning everything and he loved every second of it. As Hwitaek grabbed two bottles of banana milk and turned to find Hyojong staring at him, he blushed heavily and mumbled something about not wanting Hyojong to starve.

They bought their meal - not forgetting the triangle kimbap - and left the store, Hwitaek looking this way and that as they crossed the street. Hyojong watched the way he skillfully navigated the streets, walking faster than Hyojong’s comfortable pace. His heart ached as he wondered how many nights Hwitaek had spent like this, eating only convenience store food, because that was all he could afford or all he had time for. He wondered how many meals he’d eaten alone, how many times he’d walked this exact root, racing for home, not wanting to run into any fans.

His heart ached for Hwitaek, not just because of whatever past predicaments that Hyojong had dreamt up for him, but just for his presence, he ached- no, longed for Hwitaek. He wanted to be around him all the time, he wanted to spend every waking moment relearning all of his quirks and habits and once he’d learned them all, he’d pretend to forget so he could relearn them all again.

When they returned to the apartment, Hyojong couldn’t resist reaching out to hold onto Hwitaek’s sleeve as they rode the elevator up to his floor. They walked down the hall, Hwitaek fumbling with the keys and Hyojong nearly breathing down his neck, eager to get even the scent of his general essence.

As they walked in and Hwitaek made a beeline for the kitchen, Hyojong smirked and stopped to take his shoes off, before going to join his almost-boyfriend in the kitchen. He watched Hwitaek shuffle his feet as he went around the kitchen, going from counter to stove as he prepared their cup ramyeon, singing softly under his breath. He had such a different personality when they were at home, he was soft and seemed warm and extremely cute.

He finished making their ramyeon with a little cheer and set it aside as he opened their triangle kimbap and the dried squid. He handed the food as well as a banana milk to Hyojong and gave him a little smile. “I’m sorry I fucked up dinner,” he apologized so softly, Hyojong couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

They went to sit at the table to eat, their feet bumping underneath, making Hwitaek smirk into his food. Eating in silence was their usual, but Hyojong felt like they needed to change that, he didn’t like seeing Hwitaek quietly pick at his food. So he asked about his day, anything to strike up a conversation. Talking about their days moved into their weeks and resulted in Hyojong imitating Wooseok’s style of rap, including the little things he did with his hands, making Hwitaek laugh so hard, he started choking on his kimbap. The rest of their meal was spent laughing and generally getting more and more comfortable in the other’s presence and after they finished eating, they moved to the couch.

As Hwitaek animatedly told a story and Hyojong chuckled, they found themselves moving closer and closer, Hyojong’s hand moving to trace along Hwitaek’s thigh. The conversation came to a lull and they stared at each other, their eyes full of life. Amusement and joy danced through Hwitaek’s pupils as he glanced between Hyojong’s mouth and his eyes.

Eagerness took over Hyojong and he moved to kiss Hwitaek, however the older stood up at the last second. “Shall I make coffee?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen and glancing over his shoulder.

For a long moment, Hyojong was afraid that he’d moved too fast, but when he saw Hwitaek’s eyes, there was a light in them that suggested he was playing with Hyojong. If he wanted to play a game, Hyojong could play too, but if they both participated, it wouldn’t last long. He would make sure of that.

He listened to Hwitaek move around to make coffee, his soft breathing lured Hyojong farther into the kitchen after him. Despite being in his pajamas, he still had such a commanding air, his general presence radiated something more than what Hyojong had first saw in him. He closed his eyes gently and thought back to the first time he’d ever seen Lee Hwitaek, before Yuto, before they dated, before the Melody Pad...before everything...

* * *

 

_ “Hyojong!” Jina called the small trainee over, watching the way the young rapper’s shoulders slumped, frustrated that he was being called away from his meal. _

_ Hyojong followed his senior’s voice to find a group of trainees standing in the practice room. “Who are they?” he asked, curious. _

_ “New trainees, one of them’s going to debut really soon,” Jina smirked down at him, appreciating Hyojong’s interest in the other trainees. She was secretly hoping that Hyojong would befriend at least one of them soon, as he had always had trouble getting along with the trainees that were there now. _

_ The older watched as Hyojong pressed his nose to the glass, watching the other trainees laugh and shove each other, they were loud, but they were friends with each other and she wondered if Hyojong envied that. But what she didn’t know was that Hyojong was only watching one trainee in particular. _

_ One of the boys who was particularly skinny was standing in the corner, watching the other trainees, he had his hands folded in front of him and had a soft smile on his face. He was sitting next to an older boy who was just as skinny, but his face wasn’t as soft, he looked a little calculative. The first boy started chatting with one of the vocal trainers and when he talked, his eyes sparkled so magnificently. Hyojong couldn’t stop staring. _

_ After the instructors released them and all of the trainees shuffled out of the room, Hyojong stood by the door, waiting for the boy with the sparkly eyes. He saw Hyojong and stopped, giving him a soft smile. _

_ “I noticed you watching me,” the kid said, his voice was amused and sounded interested. _

_ Hyojong blushed and looked down. “Oh...sorry, I just-” _

_ “It’s okay. No need to apologize. I don’t mind the attention,” he giggled and Hyojong felt like the sky just opened up and hit him with the fucking sun. “I’m Hwitaek.” _

_ “Hyojong,” he stuck out his hand awkwardly and accidentally clutched Hwitaek’s hand a little too tight to shake it, making the other wince a little bit. “Oh, sorry.” _

_ “It’s fine, really.” _

_ “Do you sing?” _

_ “I try.” _

_ “Okay.” _

* * *

Hyojong couldn’t help but laugh to himself, he had had so much trouble talking to Hwitaek for the first several weeks of their friendship, which had a rocky start but had grown sturdy over time, until they were nearly inseparable. He remembered the first time he’d learned Hwitaek was gay, it was well after the older’s debut, maybe 4 months after. They were discussing a choreography that Hyojong had done and Hwitaek had made a comment about “the boys flocking” to him and then cleared his throat and said, “Oh sorry. Girls...for you.”

When Hyojong corrected him that no it was not girls for him, Hwitaek had looked thrilled and immediately asked him out, explaining that he’d been waiting for weeks to find a way to ask him to dinner. They were awkward for the first few months and it was hard, working something out, but as soon as they did, it was wonderful.

Every time Hyojong watched those romance movies that had those segments where you watched the ‘summer romance’ grow, with the montage of scenes of the couple laughing and kissing and walking together, they always seemed ridiculous to him. But looking back on those days now, they truly looked like that to him, he couldn’t even remember the weird times and the fights, all that he could remember was the good moments. The happy moments.

Looking at Hwitaek now, Hyojong wondered if he remembered it the same way, if he focused on the good or if the bad was so heavy on him that he couldn’t forget it. It made his head hurt to even try to see things from Hwitaek’s perspective, they were so different in so many ways, it was a miracle he even got the other to like him.

“There, coffee’s all done,” Hwitaek suddenly announced, cheerily, breaking Hyojong from his mindful stupor. The older was standing with his hands and sleep pants covered in coffee grounds, a soft smile on his face, he looked quite proud of the mess he made.

Hyojong almost laughed, but instead he walked over to grab Hwitaek’s face between his hands and pull him in for a kiss. He was gentle at first, not wanting to scare him off, their lips were pressed together and Hyojong could feel Hwitaek’s warm breath against his top lip. As soon as he felt Hwitaek relax into the kiss, he allowed himself to move his lips a bit, sliding them to fit against the other’s a bit more comfortably.

It went from gentle to warm and romantic to breathtaking as they both gained more confidence, letting their lips move and Hwitaek pressed his tongue to Hyojong’s lip, dragging it over the cracked skin. The soft breaths that were ghosting over Hyojong’s chin helped to keep him grounded in reality, otherwise he would have melted into a Hwitaek induced euphoria.

Two hands grabbed onto Hyojong’s shirt, pushing him back into the counter behind him, Hwitaek’s body pressing closer to his. A shudder escaped the rapper as his now-boyfriend squeezed him tighter, their hips were flush against each other and every movement made Hyojong desperate for more.

As Hwitaek pushed his body farther into his, Hyojong felt himself slowly lose control of himself and before he knew it, he was grinding his hips against Hwitaek’s. The older moaned gently into his mouth and he felt hands slide under his butt, lifting him up onto the counter behind him. He had never allowed himself to be maneuvered by anyone else like this, to allow someone to take control of him and decide what he did next, he only ever let Hwitaek have control over him in this way.

And it was also in this way that Hyojong fell in love with him, it was all under Hwitaek’s control, it was in the way that he had given himself completely to him, he had handed over his freedom and will and had entrusted Hwitaek with them and in return the older hadn’t abused this power, he had been careful not to mistreat it and to cherish and be grateful for it.

It was so hard not to fall in love with someone who held your heart with such respect...

Hyojong pushed Hwitaek back enough for him to get off the counter and he opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a gasped, “Bedroom,” and was pulled after Hwitaek, who was making his way towards his bedroom.

Once inside the room, Hwitaek all but shoved Hyojong onto the bed, moving to straddle his waist. He pinned him to the mattress below and kissed him ferociously, their mouths moving in a beautiful tandem, it was not a battle for dominance as they were equals. They loved each other equally and they respected each other equally, there was no room for battles in their relationship.

They broke apart to stand up and remove their clothing, their eyes were locked on one another as they undressed, until they were standing in front of the other, naked physically and emotionally. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before, but they still had such an appreciation for each other’s bodies and Hyojong moved forwards, kneeling in front of Hwitaek. He pressed tender kisses all over the older’s thighs, earning a baffled giggle.

He continued his escapade of Hwitaek’s thighs and peppered as far down as his knees, until he found himself face-to-face with his boyfriend’s thick cock. He stared for a moment, wondering what Hwitaek would be okay with him doing, but when he looked up to meet the warmth in Hwitaek’s eyes, he knew that he had free reign of the situation.

He gently kissed the tip of the cock, then moved to slide his tongue along the underside. Hwitaek sighed in the back of his throat and Hyojong felt a surge of pride, he was obviously doing something right.

As he took his whole cock in his mouth, he paused, feeling Hwitaek make tiny noises as he adjusted to the heat of Hyojong’s mouth. The older’s hand came down to scratch his nails against Hyojong’s scalp, taking a handful of his hair, holding it gently. Hyojong sucked gently, feeling Hwitaek grow harder in his mouth, he took a deep breath through his nose and repeated the action until Hwitaek was fully hard.

Satisfied by the response to his oral work, Hyojong sat back on his heels, eyes trailing along Hwitaek’s flat stomach, over his slightly defined chest and bony collarbones to stop at his plush lips, which looked intoxicatingly kissable. He stood up, moving to kiss Hwitaek, but while he was in mid motion, Hwitaek pushed him back towards the bed, watching him scramble to hold onto something as he tumbled onto the mattress.

The younger seemed shocked at first, but his eyes quickly darkened and grew hooded as he watched Hwitaek saunter over to his dresser, rummaging in it for a small plastic bag, from which he withdrew a condom box and a bottle of lube. Hyojong felt a little satisfied as he noticed that neither had been opened.

“Do you wanna top or bottom?” Hwitaek asked, returning to the edge of the bed, supplies in hand.

Hyojong nibbled on his lip, it’d been a long time since he’d had sex and an even longer time since he’d bottomed, but something about the way Hwitaek was standing, or maybe just the way he looked or smelled,  _ something _ about him...Hyojong wanted to bottom.

He relayed his choice to Hwitaek, who looked surprised briefly, but when Hyojong followed it up with “For our first round,” he delivered a wink and Hwitaek laughed, with an expression that seemed to say ‘of course’.

Watching as Hwitaek spread lube over his fingers, Hyojong felt his arousal grow, before he’d been so focused on the other’s pleasure that he’d almost forgotten about his, but he noticed that he was definitely getting harder now. He moved to lean against the back of the bed and spread his legs apart, his eyes trained on Hwiatek’s figure as he climbed onto the edge of the bed and approached Hyojong.

“Just tell me when I can add another finger, okay?” he instructed gently, his hand lowering to gently press the pad of his finger against Hyojong’s hole. He was careful in the way he pressed his finger in, pushing past the ring of muscle to massage at the velvety insides.

His finger moved slowly until Hyojong panted and nodded for him to add another, Hwitaek was always gentle when it came to this as he had most likely accidentally hurt someone - or himself - once and didn’t want to relive that. By the time he added the third finger, Hyojong was desperate and he jerked his hips further down onto Hwitaek’s fingers, making the older smirk and nod.

“Okay, baby, okay,” he whispered, pulling his fingers out and leaning back to roll a condom onto his cock, which was already dripping slightly.

After applying a little bit of extra lubricant to the outside of the condom, better safe than sorry, he moved over Hyojong to kiss at his nose and his collarbones. He was muttering some words of assurance under his breath as he pressed the tip of his cock to Hyojong’s entrance, his arms were firmly holding himself up on either side of the rapper’s head and after Hyojong gently squeezed his shoulder, he slowly pressed his length into him.

He was careful to push in all the way and once fully situated, he waited for Hyojong to adjust, feeling the way the younger wriggled his hips ever so slightly, moving to take in all of Hwitaek’s length. He breathed softly and then wheezed out, “Move.”

Hwitaek slowly swiveled his hips, unable to stop the smile as Hyojong whined under him, his hips snapped up, trying to get Hwitaek to move more. He complied and pulled out a bit before thrusting even deeper in. He forgot how demanding of a power bottom the rapper was.

It took a few more thrusts before Hyojong was outwardly insisting that Hwitaek move faster or else “I will fucking throw you off this damn bed and fuck myself on your bedpost if I have to”, to which Hwitaek most certainly did move faster, knowing that the square bedpost wouldn’t be comfortable.

The slapping of skin-on-skin grew louder, mixing with the sounds of their panting and the bed creaking, a curse leaving Hyojong’s lips every now and then. He hadn’t remembered that Hwitaek was so quiet as a top, the only sounds he was making were the tiny grunts of effort as he thrust into Hyojong.

If memory served him right, Hyojong remembered him being a whiny bottom, which drove Hyojong fucking insane, but this new quiet side of him was odd and Hyojong suddenly felt determined to draw more noises from him. Every time Hwitaek thrusted in, Hyojong moved to meet him halfway and clenched slightly as he pulled out again, judging by the gasp Hwitaek let out the first time Hyojong tried his new method, he guessed it was working pretty well.

As Hyojong worked harder to fuck himself on Hwitaek’s cock, he focused on the sounds coming from Hwitaek, tiny little grunts turned into a quiet moan which turned into a guttural groan. Hyojong had never felt prouder in his life and he rewarded the older with a whimper and a moan, which encouraged Hwitaek as well.

Hyojong watched his boyfriend’s face growing slack, until he bent his head down to take one of Hyojong’s nipples into his mouth, making the rapper whine again. He wet the nipple with his tongue, before pulling back to blow cool air on it, then moving in again to take it in his mouth, his teeth gently scraping over the pert bud.

There was no one who could truly turn Hyojong into a mess like Hwitaek could, from his smooth thrusting to his lewd gaze, everything brought Hyojong closer and closer to his release. His stomach was warm and the arousal there only grew heavier by the second. He tried to grab onto Hwitaek’s hair, but the older was sitting up, leaning back on his heels, he lifted Hyojong’s butt, changing his angle to thrust even deeper.

He had closed his eyes and just fallen into the rhythm that Hwitaek was thrusting at, when the cock buried in him hit that bundle of nerves and he let out a shocked cry. The warmth exploded through him, spreading across his skin and shooting white stars before his eyes, he felt his orgasm burst through him, moaning loudly as he came, covering his stomach in his cum.

Hwitaek thrust harder, chasing his own orgasm and he came a little while after, looking slightly guilty for having waited so long, fucking Hyojong quite literally raw. He pulled his length all the way out and settled down next to Hyojong, who was still in a sensitive state and had relaxed his entire body, trying to gain the strength to go clean himself off.

They grabbed onto each other’s hands and held them for awhile, eyes still closed and heads laid onto the pillows as Hwitaek regained his breath. When Hyojong was rested enough, he sat up, turning to look at his boyfriend, who was growing sleepier as time passed. He brushed his knuckles over the older’s forehead, swiping his hair out of his face.

“I love you,” Hwitaek suddenly mumbled, making Hyojong jolt in surprise, he tried to pull his hand away from Hwitaek snatched it from the air and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I love you,” he repeated.

Hyojong felt a warmth creeping up his chest, not the arousal kind, the blushing kind. It took a lot to make him blush, but apparently for Hwitaek, it was easy. “I love you, too,” he responded, enjoying the feeling of Hwitaek breathing against the pads of his fingers.

When his hand was finally released, he went in search of a warm wet towel to clean them both off with and by the time he returned, Hwitaek was already up and stripping the sheets off the bed. Hyojong pouted a little at the sight and went up to press a kiss onto Hwitaek’s bare shoulder.

“We aren’t going to go again?” he asked, sounding downright pitiful.

Hwitaek looked back, giving the younger a dazzling grin. “Isn’t the bed a little too soft for you?” he teased. “I was thinking we’d do it on the floor.”  
  
The rapper snorted and then nodded. “Works for me.” He forgot that Hwitaek had a downright dirty side, as it turned out, there was a lot about Hwitaek that he had to relearn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it  
> The next chapter should be up by the weekend, but I'm going to a B.A.P concert this week and might forget to finish it, apologies ahead of time.


	11. Moving On {Final Chapter}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this :)  
> Here's the final chapter, enjoy <3

Hyojong had woke in Hwitaek’s bed, only to find the older was no longer there. He rose and remade the bed, the fresh sheets that they’d put on last night now smelled a little like himself and he smiled a bit, he liked the idea of his scent leaving a lasting effect on Hwitaek’s room.

As he pulled his clothes back on, he checked the time on his phone, it was after 9:00, making him groan internally. Wooseok would be at the studio at 10:00. Between eating and traffic, he might not be there on time, so he texted Wooseok telling him to come at 11:00 instead.

There was a smell that wafted into the room and drew him out of the bedroom, finding his way to the kitchen and stopping momentarily. The kitchen was slightly crowded with smoke, but there was the unmistakeable scent of rice and soybean paste stew. As he moved further into the room, he risked a look at the toaster where a forgotten piece of bread had been left, making Hyojong grimace. Where even was Hwitaek?

He rescued the toast and threw it in the trash before it could do any more damage to itself or any of its surroundings. He opened a window, feeling cool air rush in through the screen, helping to air out some of the smoke.

When the sound of a door opening alerted him, he turned around to see Hwitaek coming out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but his boxers, rubbing a towel over his head. His eyes widened when he saw the smoke, then he cursed quietly and muttered an apology as he went to open the oven, pleased to see that his stew and rice were still intact.

“So...breakfast?” he giggled as he pulled the two small pots out of the oven, where he was keeping them warm. He set them on the stove and waved his hand in front of his face, swatting away wisps of smoke. Setting the lids aside, he scooped some stew and some rice into two bowls, handing one to Hyojong and moving to sit at the table.

Hyojong joined him and they munched on their food, they both were still a little sleepy and were pretty quiet, but Hyojong managed to force Hwitaek to talk about his schedule for the next week, so they could figure out a good time for a date.

“Don’t you work with Wooseok all this week?” Hwitaek asked.

Hyojong nodded in response. “And I need to clear out my old storage room, so he can move in.”

The silence he received in return made him look up to see Hwitaek giving him a blank stare. “So he can what?” he asked, his voice unreadable.

“Move in,” Hyojong repeated.

Hwitaek chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, before clearing his throat and staring down at his stew. “Oh,” he mumbled, feeling Hyojong’s eyes on him.

“Is that...okay with you?” Hyojong asked, but his voice suggested he didn’t actually want to hear the answer. He found it quite ridiculous that Hwitaek would be bothered by the idea.

The older seemed to momentarily bristle before looking up at Hyojong. “I just think it’s a bit...fast. I mean you’ve only been training him for a few months and now he’s going to live with you?”

Hyojong sighed, setting his spoon down. “Hwitaek. He’s a kid, I work with him. There’s nothing between us, you know that.”

Hurt flashed for just a second behind Hwitaek’s eyes, before he nodded sadly, looking more disappointed in himself than anything. “I know, I’m sorry. I should trust you more than that. It’s just...I’m finally getting comfortable with this relationship again and I had a brief second of fear that I’d lose it again.”

Unable to hold himself back, Hyojong reached forward to grab onto his boyfriend’s hand. “You’ll never lose me. I’m always here,” he vowed, his sincerity apparent.

* * *

Moving Wooseok in proved to be more difficult than Hyojong had originally hoped. After he successfully cleared out his storage room, with help from Hyunggu, Shinwon and Hwitaek. But when the kid actually showed up with his stuff, everything soon fell into chaos.

They had been arguing for thirty minutes over where the bed should go, Hyojong insisting that if he put it in that corner, he wouldn’t have enough space to move around his room and exercise, to which Wooseok had countered with “Well I don’t exercise anyways”, leaving Hyojong quite baffled and even more frustrated.

Only to add to this mess, Wooseok had claimed Hyojong’s, currently, empty liquor cabinet for all of his cereals, which to Hyojong’s best guess was all he ate for breakfast, everyday. Yet again, the older rapper found himself horrified. As it turned out, there were plenty of things that Hyojong had yet to learn about Wooseok that would leave him shocked and bothered.

By the time all of the boxes were in the room and Wooseok was starting into unpacking, Hyojong was already overwhelmed and mumbled something about going to have lunch with Hwitaek. He texted his boyfriend as he was walking about the door, heading for the coffee shop down the street.

He stood in the quiet of the shop, relieved to have a break from Wooseok and the noise of his home right now. He took a deep breath and walked up to the counter to order a coffee, when he finished ordering his phone buzzed and he opened it to see a text from Changgu.

_ Hey, so about that kid, has he made a decision yet? xx _

Hyojong almost laughed, of course Changgu would add x’s, he really did have too much love for his own good. He texted back a reply, bristling inside, knowing that Changgu would be upset and probably whine at him later. 

_ yeah he doesn’t want it thanks anyways xx _

He couldn’t resist adding the last part, smirking to himself as he turned his phone on silent and shoved it back in his pocket to turn and collect his coffee with a ‘thank you’ to the barista. He took his seat in a far corner, away from the line, but near the door so he would be able to see Hwitaek if he happened to come in.

* * *

There was a distinct smell of approaching spring in the air and there were few things that gave Hwitaek more joy than good weather. He delved his hands into his pockets as he walked from his apartment, looking this way and that as he strolled across the street. He was very rarely a sloppy walker and always remained attentive to his surroundings.

He had received Hyojong’s text while he was in a class with his vocal trainer, but as soon as he was done, he had raced to get to his apartment to change into something suitable. He was wearing high waisted jeans that followed the style of ‘boyfriend jeans’ and a loose white t-shirt, his shoes were also white. He had decided to embrace the coming spring by dressing in light colors, but really he was just cold now. He walked faster as he passed a group of high schoolers girls who were buried in their phones and talking loudly.

While he wasn’t pretentious enough to assume that they’d know him, but on the off chance that they did, well...he had a date to get to and didn’t want anything to stop him.

His text alert went off from his back pocket and with a little lurch of his heart, he looked at it, hoping it was Hyojong telling him that he’d wait for him. As he withdrew his phone and looked at the screen, his stomach flopped, the feeling of a brick being dropped on his heart hit him hard and he stopped in his tracks.

It was a text from Yan An.

_ Hyung, can you come here? I’m at the hospital. _

Details of where the hospital was followed, but Hwitaek stopped reading long before now. His head was swirling with panic and he felt his heart twist gruesomely. He immediately called a taxi and instructed them where to go. As he climbed into the vehicle, his thoughts were focused on Yan An, his date completely forgotten by now.

* * *

Hyojong awoke with a jolt, he looked around to see the sky had grown dark and he was still sitting in the coffee shop. His hands were in his lap and he had drifted off at some point. He stared at his half drunk cold coffee with a bitter expression, why couldn’t it have done it’s job and kept him awake?

He couldn’t ignore the fact that he was alone.

Hwitaek hadn’t come.

With a groan, Hyojong mentally kicked himself and stood up, stretching his stiff limbs. Sleeping in that chair was really a bad idea. He felt stupid, of course he shouldn’t have expected him to show, especially without checking with him ahead of time.

On his phone screen was a text from Wooseok.

_ are you okay? you didn’t come back after lunch and I can’t cook, so I ordered dinner in _

The time read almost 9pm and Hyojong groaned again. He truly felt stupid and he bowed his head to the workers as he was leaving, who were attending other customers. He was lucky they didn’t close until 10pm that day, and were always busy right up until close or else they might have seen him sleeping.

As he walked down the now cold streets, he shivered a bit, regretting not grabbing a jacket. His heart was heavy, but he couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault. Maybe Hwitaek was still mad about Wooseok moving in with him?

When he reached the Melody Pad, which was barely a minute’s worth of a walk away, he slipped inside, relieved to feel the warmth inside. He threw his cold coffee away and walked towards the back, towards the living half of the building, but a sound caught him off guard and he stopped.

It was a video that was playing in his office, drawing his attention. He was sure he’d turned his computer off. He peeked through the door, seeing the large figure of Wooseok sitting in there. He was hunched over the computer, his head braced on his hand and he seemed to be either laughing or crying, Hyojong couldn’t be sure.

He turned his attention to the video that was playing, it was one of Yuto’s audition tapes. A fresh faced young Adachi Yuto was standing up on the stage, looking wide eyed and afraid as he was instructed to do a rap and a dance. Both of which he carried out almost effortlessly. Hyojong had forgotten how good he was, how easily he had impressed the other judges and himself.

Deciding it was best to leave the kid be, Hyojong retreated and entered his home. Just when he thought that Wooseok was moving on, he was still stuck in the past. He didn’t want to cruelly tell him to forget about Yuto, he knew it would take time. As he busied himself getting in his pajamas, his eyes drifted to the door, waiting for Wooseok to walk in.

Hyojong figured he’d be awhile. Moving on takes time, after all.

* * *

Spring came in a whirlwind of cherry blossoms and rain storms, Hyojong allowed the weather to pull him along with it, changing with the seasons and all. A sort of spring resolution, if you will. It had been three months since Hyojong had run into Hwitaek again and in that short amount of time, he had rekindled that relationship and even taken a young rapper under his wing. He was a different person than he was in the winter.

Hwitaek had been spending lots of time with Yan An, helping him recuperate after an apparent car accident, the kid apparently wasn’t the best driver and crashed into a ditch. Hyojong no longer held bitter feelings about being stood up and in return, Hwitaek promised not to harbor bitter feelings about Wooseok. The struggle was rescheduling a date when they were so busy with other things.

While Hyojong was scrubbing the floor of one of the sound booths, he heard the door and went to look, only to see Hyunggu skipping in happily, a dejected Shinwon following him. It was the first time he’d seen them since the tour, but he frowned slightly, something was off about those two.

“Hey,” he called out, getting to his feet and stepping out of the room.

Hyunggu moved to his side fairly quickly while Shinwon rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter. “Hyojonggie!” Hyunggu was squealing. “It’s been so long!” he threw his arms around the rapper, who was still watching Shinwon carefully.

“Yeah, how was the tour?” he asked, pulling Hyunggu off of him.

“It was great!”

“Are you guys okay?” he looked closely between them. Shinwon normally didn’t speak a whole lot to begin with, but this was even weirder, he was always passive, but he seemed downright sad.

“Oh,” Hyunggu glanced at Shinwon, his expression growing sour. “He’s just here to work. I’ve gotta run though, I put in an order of lunch and I’m going to go pick it up. But I’ll be back, okay?” he forced a grin, before bounding out of the studio again.

Hyojong carefully approached Shinwon, Hyunggu might brush him off, but his partner would at least be honest. “Shinwon-ah,” he lured the other’s attention. “Are you guys okay?”

He watched the manager fidget for a moment, his eyes growing cloudy. He mumbled something, jabbing at the ground with the toe of his boot. Realizing that there was no way Hyojong understood him, he cleared his throat and repeated himself, coherent this time. “We broke up.”

There were few things that Hyojong had expected to happen in life, the world was going to end at some point, obviously. The earth goes around the sun. The weather changes. America will always find something to ruin for the sake of a trend. All of these he expected. But Hyunggu and Shinwon breaking up? Never in a million years.

They always seemed so happy together, their hands were always intertwined when they were alone and anytime they weren’t having a minor fight, their eyes were full of love for each other. What the hell happened?

“Why?” Hyojong blurted out.

Shinwon shrugged, muttering something again, but this time it was at least legible. “He decided he likes being single and he only wants me as his manager.”

The owner of the Melody Pad seemed to be glowering now, his expression growing dark. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Shinwon shook his head. “It’s okay, I’m not good at relationships. I probably fucked it up. Please...don’t be mad at him.”

Hyojong stared at him, bewildered. He was so damn loyal to Hyunggu that he even wanted to take the blame for them breaking up? He must truly still be in love with him.

A passive feeling washed over him, with it coming a reminder. Everyone moves on, things change, sometimes relationships end and sometimes they’re repaired. All of these things come with time, it was time he accepted it. Shinwon would move on. Wooseok would move on. They would be okay.

He took a deep breath through his nose and continued his cleaning, his mind still buzzing loudly. There were things that he was learning, even at his age, there was still far more to learn about life that he couldn’t even begin to imagine. His job was to make sure that those younger than him learned these things before they made the same mistakes he did. To help them move on.

* * *

The weather was slightly cooler than he had hoped for, but the sun was warm and Hyojong held tighter onto Hwitaek’s hand as he marched up the hill. He had insisted that his boyfriend take a day off so they could make up for all the lost dates that they hadn’t had time for recently. He was clutching a basket in one hand and Hwitaek’s hand in the other, determination set in his features and posture.

They were out in a field that they’d drove a long ways to find, the wind was whipping around their clothes, tugging at the fabric of their jackets and trying to pull them down. But they held onto each other and walked against the force of the wind, finding themselves at the top of the hill in a short time.

“What’re we doing here?” Hwitaek asked lightly, his voice getting snatched and carried down to the bottom of the hill, where his car was parked.

“We’re on a date,” Hyojong informed.

He set their basket down and then sat next to it, patting the ground beside him, encouraging Hwitaek to join him. When he did, he took the towel off the top of the basket, to reveal little containers full of cheese and fruit and two little thermos’ full of hot tea. Hwitaek clapped his hands together delightedly.

“A picnic,” he beamed, staring at Hyojong, whose face was slowly melting into a smile at his boyfriend’s display of joy. God, he was cute.

They divvied up the fruit and cheese and used the chopsticks that Hyojong had packed to pick up and eat them, Hwitaek’s face lighting up, his mouthful of strawberry. Just seeing him happy made Hyojong’s day.

Hyojong pulled out his phone and turned on a soft song, letting the melody ring out through the air, getting carried off by the wind as soon as it started. Hwitaek smirked, watching Hyojong get immersed in the music, sipping on his tea, which was too bitter, not that he’d tell his boyfriend though.

As they ate in peace, the song moved into another, which moved into another and halfway through the third song, an idea popped into Hyojong’s head. He looked up to see Hwitaek pouting a little as he focused on trying to eat all of the flesh off of a cherry pit. He looked undeniably beautiful like this, wearing his thick coat on top of his little pullover, the wind tearing through his blonde locks - which he’d recently dyed and humming along to the song. He was breathtaking.

Hyojong suddenly stood up, extending his hand in Hwitaek’s direction. The older looked up, eyebrows raised. He stared at the hand for a moment, before taking it and using it to pull himself to his feet. “What’re we doing?” he asked, excitement laced in the tone of his voice.

Not answering him, Hyojong tugged him closer, careful not to step on their picnic. He knew that there was no people around, so they were free to do whatever they wanted, out here on top of this hill, for nothing but the birds and the trees to see.

He swayed his body gently, pulling Hwitaek’s along with him, his feet carefully moving around Hwitaek’s as he pulled him along to the rhythm of the music. Their bodies moved in tandem as Hwitaek seemed to catch on and danced with Hyojong to the song, which they could barely hear over the wind.

They found themselves staring into each other’s eyes, getting lost in the catches of light that resided there, the complete trust and adoration that was burning in the hues of each other’s eyes. They were so completely caught up in each other that they didn’t notice one of the thermos’ getting blown over by the wind and spilling the tea into the dirt below. They didn’t notice the song change into another one. They didn’t notice the world moving on around them. The birds were singing, leaves blew across the grass and the whole earth seemed to move to the rhythm of the next song.

They danced for what seemed like forever, locked in the other’s arms and not getting distracted by anything. Their eyes were only for each other and their hearts were trapped under the weight of the other’s love. As ridiculous as it seemed, there were few forces on earth as strong as love, especially the love that Hyojong felt for Hwitaek when he laughed, or when he tried to talk while eating and ended up snorting. Or the love that Hwitaek felt for Hyojong when he made nonsensical sounds just to get his attention, or the way he closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek while reviewing his song tracks.

A love as strong as theirs could be considered dangerous, they would fight for each other until their last breath, they would kill for each other, they would die for each other. But most importantly, they were happiest with each other. They weren’t as happy anywhere else as they were with each other.

At some point they had stopped dancing and didn’t even notice, until they locked their hands together and stared unblinkingly into the other’s eyes. Hyojong used this opportunity to pull Hwitaek a little closer, pressing his lips quickly to the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth.

Hwitaek seemed displeased with how short the kiss was and he dragged Hyojong’s lips back to his own, locking them together, kissing the breath out of him. When he finally pulled away, they stared at each other until they both ended up laughing, the wind blowing their hair into their eyes and pulling Hwitaek’s laugh from his mouth, throwing it across the field below them.

Making a mental note to thank Wooseok later, Hyojong pulled Hwitaek into a tight hug. He had never been truly romantic before, but his first attempt at it seemed fairly successful and his heart was singing for joy as he felt Hwitaek’s chest pressed against his own, his nose burying in Hyojong’s neck.

“I’m happier with you,” Hwitaek mumbled against his collarbone.

His choice of words didn’t go unnoticed and Hyojong looked at the top of his head, the scent of his shampoo filling his nostrils as he breathed. “Happier as opposed to?”

A giggle fell from Hwitaek’s lips, rolling down into the grass, probably feeding the flowers, if Hyojong’s imagination was correct. “Happier than anything. Everything. I’m happy a lot of the time, but...I’ve never been as happy as I am with you.”

Hyojong’s grin was the widest it’d been in awhile and he pulled Hwitaek off his shoulder to kiss his nose. “I never stopped loving you, you know?”

A blush shone on Hwitaek’s cheeks and he stared at their feet, nodding a little. He did know and Hyojong didn’t have to say it for him to know, they’d always secretly known that they’d come back to this point. They knew that they had always been in love and wouldn’t be able to stay away for long, they were apart just long enough to nurse their wounds and then they would fall back in step with each other. It was inevitable.

There was no avoiding it, that had never even been an option. Unlike Hyunggu and Shinwon or Yuto and Wooseok, they had been at the lowest point of their relationship and built themselves back up, they had had the time to do that. And until the next time they reached the lowest point, they were going to be happy.  
  
It was only a matter of time until Shinwon or Wooseok could be happy again, but that would take time, a lot of time where they would still hurt. There would always be pain there, it wouldn’t go away, but eventually the good things would outweigh the bad things. During that time, they wouldn’t forget even a second of it. It was important for growth to remember everything. The love, the sorrow, the anger, the  _ happiness _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to ciara hehe
> 
> I honestly can't thank you enough for reading my story and (hopefully) liking it. I'm so blessed to have you all.  
> I probably won't update for a little while, except for maybe a one shot that has been in my drafts for forever.  
> you can find me on twitter (leehwitake) or tumblr (dang-youngbae/nolovevip)  
> thank you again and again and again <3  
> ~domi xx


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